Source: A
Sentimental Journey/ through France and Italy by Laurence
Sterne/ Author of "Tristram Shandy," etc./ With a Life of the Author/
By H. D. Traill/ A. L. Burt, Publisher,/ New York [Not Dated, circa
1890].

In 1765
Laurence Sterne travelled through France and Italy as far south as
Naples, and after returning determined to describe his travels from a
sentimental point of view. The decision was probably come to on account
of the success with which he had touched upon his earlier stay in
France in Book VII. of Tristram Shandy. what was destined to be
the last volume of Tristram Shandy was published in 1767, and
the author at once turned his attention to a new project of four
volumes describing A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy.
By November, despite ill health, the first two volumes were finished,
and at the close of the year he left his Coxwold parsonage and visited
London to superintend the publication of them. The Sentimental
Journey was published on February 27, and on March 18 Laurence
Sterne died, having scarce tasted the sweets of success which attended
on this his most widely-
known work. The year after Sterne's death was published Yorick's
Sentimental Journey Continued by Eugenius in two volumes. [note
from Burt edition]

A
Sentimental Journey

through
France and Italy

by Mr.
Yorick

HEY order, said I, this matter better in France--You
have been in France? said my gentleman, turning quick upon me with the
most civil triumph in the world.-
-Strange! quoth I, debating the matter with myself, That one and
twenty miles sailing, for 'tis absolutely no further from Dover to
Calais, should give a man these rights--I'll look into
them: so giving up the argument--I went straight to my
lodgings, put up half a dozen shirts and a black pair of silk breeches--'the
coat I have on,' said I, looking at the sleeve, 'will do'--took
a place in the Dover stage; and the packet sailing at nine the next
morning--by three I had got sat down to my dinner upon a
fricaseed chicken, so incontestably in France, that had I died that
night of an indigestion, the whole world could not have suspended the
effects of the Droits d'aubaine*--my shirts, and a
pair of silk breeches--portmanteau and all must have gone
to the King of France-- even the little picture which I
have so long worn, and so often have told thee, Eliza, I would carry
with me into my grave, would have been torn from my neck.-- Ungenerous!--to
seize upon the wreck of an
unwary passenger, whom your subjects had beckon'd to their coast--
by heaven! SIRE, it is not well
done; and much does it grieve me, 'tis the monarch of a people so
civilized and courteous, and so renowned for sentiment and fine
feelings, that I have to reason with--

But I have scarce set
foot in your dominions--

____________* All the effects of strangers (Swiss and Scotch
excepted) dying in France, are seized by virtue of this law, though the
heir be upon the spot--the profit of these contingencies
being
farmed, there is no redress.

Calais

When I had finish'd my
dinner, and drank the king of France's health, to satisfy my mind that
I bore him no spleen, but, on the contrary, high honor for the humanity
of his temper--I rose up an inch taller for the
accomodation.

--No--said I--the
Bourbon is by no means a cruel race; they may be misled like other
people; but there is a mildness in their blood. As I acknowledged this,
I felt a suffusion of a finer kind upon my cheek--more warm and
friendly to man, than what Burgundy (at least of two livres a bottle,
which was such as I had been drinking) could have produced.

--Just God! said I,
kicking my portmanteau aside, what is there in this world's goods which
should sharpen our spirits, and make so many kind-hearted brethren of
us fall out so cruelly as we do by the way?

When a man is at peace
with man, how much lighter than a feather is the heaviest of metals in
his hand! he pulls out his purse, and holding it airily and
uncompress'd, looks round him, as if he sought for an object to share
it with.--In doing this, I felt every vessel in my frame
dilate--the arteries beat all cheerily together, and every
power which sustained life, performed it with so little friction, that
'twould have confounded the most physical précieuse in France:
with all her materialism, she could scarce have called me a machine--

I'm confident, said I to
myself, I should have overset her creed.

The accession of that
idea carried nature, at that time, as high as she could go--I
was at peace with the world before, and this finish'd the treaty with
myself--

Now, was I a King of
France, cried I--what a moment for an orphan to have
begg'd his father's portmanteau of me!

Calais--The
Monk

I had scarce uttered the
words, when a poor monk of the order of St. Francis came into the room
to beg something for his convent. No man cares to have his virtues the
sport of contingencies--or one man may be generous, as
another man is puissant-- sed non quo ad hanc--
or be it as it
may--for there is no regular reasoning upon the ebbs and
flows of our humours; they may depend upon the same causes, for aught I
know, which influence the tides themselves--'twould oft be
no discredit to us, to suppose it was so: I'm sure at least for myself,
that in many a case I should be more highly satisfied, to have it said
by the world, 'I had had an affair with the moon, in which there was
neither sin nor shame', than have it pass altogether as my own act and
deed, wherein there was so much of both.

But be this as it may.
The moment I cast my eyes upon him, I was determined not to give him a
single sous; and accordingly I put my purse into my pocket--button'd
it up--set myself a little more upon my centre, and
advanced up gravely to him; there was something, I fear, forbidding in
my look: I have his figure this moment before my eyes, and think there
was that in it which deserved better.

The monk, as I judged
from the break in his tonsure, a few scatter'd white hairs upon his
temples being all that remained of it, might be about seventy--but
from his eyes, and that sort of fire which was in them, which seemed
more temper'd by courtesy than years, could be no more than sixty--Truth
might lie between--He was certainly sixty-five; and the
general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seem'd to
have been planting wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the
account.

It was one of those
heads which Guido has often painted-- mild, pale--
penetrating, free from all
commonplace ideas of fat contented ignorance looking downwards upon the
earth--it look'd forwards; but look'd, as if it look'd at
something beyond this world. How one of his order came by it, heaven
above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders, best knows; but it
would have suited a Bramin, and had I met it upon the plains of
Indostan, I had reverenced it.

The rest of his outline
may be given in a few strokes; one might put it into the hands of
anyone to design, for 'twas neither elegant or otherwise, but as
character and expression made it so: it was a thin, spare form,
something above the common size, if it lost not the distinction by a
bend forward in the figure--but it was the attitude of
Entreaty; and as it now stands presented to my imagination, it gain'd
more than it lost by it.

When he had entered the
room three paces, he stood still; and laying his left hand upon his
breast (a slender white staff with which he journey'd being in his
right)-- when I had got close up to him, he introduced
himself with the little story of the wants of his convent and the
poverty of his order--and did it with so simple a grace--and
such an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and
figure--I was bewitch'd not to have been struck with it--

--A better reason was, I
had predetermined not to give him a single sous.

Calais--The
Monk

'Tis very true, said I,
replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded
his address--'tis very true-
-and heaven be their resource who have no other but the charity
of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the
many great claims which are hourly made upon it.

As I pronounced the
words great claims, he gave a slight glance with his eye
downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic--I felt the full
force of the appeal--I acknowledge it, said I--a
coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet--are
no great matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd
in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to
procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lame,
the blind, the aged, and the infirm--the captive who lies
down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions,
languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the order
of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am,
continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should it have
been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate--The
monk made me a bow--but of all others, resumed I, the
unfortunate of our own country, surely, have the first rights; and I
have left thousands in distress upon our own shore--The
monk gave a cordial wave with his head--as much as to say,
No doubt, there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well
as within our convent--But we distinguish, said I, laying
my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return for his appeal--we
distinguish, my good father! betwixt those who wish only to eat the
bread of their own labor--and those who eat the bread of
other people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through it
in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God.

The poor Franciscan made
no reply; a hectic of a moment pass'd across his cheek, but could not
tarry--Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in
him; he shewed none--but letting his staff fall within his
arm, he press'd both his hands with resignation upon his breast, and
retired.

Calais--The
Monk

My heart smote me the
moment he shut the door--Psha! said I, with an air of
carelessness, three several times--but it would not do:
every ungracious syllable I had utter'd, crowded back into my
imagination: I reflected, I had no right over the poor Franciscan, but
to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the
disappointed, without the addition of unkind language--I
considered his grey hairs-- his courteous figure seem'd to
re-enter and gently ask me what injury he had done me?--and
why I could use him thus?-- I would have given twenty
livres for an advocate-- I have behaved very ill, said I
within myself; but I
have only just set out upon my travels; and shall learn better manners
as I get along.

Calais--The
Désobligeant

When a man is discontented
with himself, it has one advantage however, that it puts him into an
excellent frame of mind for making a bargain. Now there being no
travelling through France and Italy without a chaise--and
nature generally prompting us to the thing we are fittest for, I walk'd
out into the coach-yard to buy or hire something of that kind to my
purpose: an old Désobligeant* in the furthest corner of the
court hit my fancy at first sight, so I instantly got into it, and
finding it in tolerable harmony with my feelings, I ordered the waiter
to call Monsieur Dessein, the master of the hotel--but
Monsieur Dessein being gone to vespers, and not caring to face the
Franciscan, whom I saw on the opposite side of the court, in conference
with a lady just arrived at the inn-
-I drew the taffeta curtain betwixt us, and being determined to
write my journey, I took out my pen and ink, and wrote the preface to
it in the Désobligeant.

____________* A Chaise, so called in France, from its
holding but one person.

Preface--In
the Désobligeant

It must have been observed
by many a peripatetic philosopher, That nature has set up by her own
unquestionable authority certain boundaries and fences to circumscribe
the discontent of man: she has effected her purpose in the quietest and
easiest manner, by laying him under almost insuperable obligations to
work out his ease, and to sustain his suffering at home. It is there
only that she has provided him with the most suitable objects to
partake of his happiness, and bear a part of that burthen, which, in
all countries and ages, has ever been too heavy for one pair of
shoulders. 'Tis true, we are endued with an imperfect power of
spreading our happiness sometimes beyond her limits, but 'tis
so ordered, that from the want of languages, connections, and
dependencies, and from the difference in educations, customs, and
habits, we lie under so many impediments in communicating our
sensations out of our own sphere, as often amount to a total
impossibility.

It will always follow
from hence, that the balance of sentimental commerce is always against
the expatriated adventurer: he must buy what he has little occasion
for, at their own price--his conversation will seldom be
taken in exchange for theirs without a large discount--
and this,by the bye, eternally driving him into the hands of more
equitable brokers, for such conversation as he can find, it requires no
great spirit of divination to guess at his party--

This brings me to my
point; and naturally leads me (if the see-saw of this Désobligeant
will but let me get on) into the efficient as well as final causes of
travelling--

Your idle people will
leave their native country, and go abroad for some reason or reasons
which may be derived from one of these general causes--

Infirmity of body,

Imbecility of the mind,
or

Inevitable necessity.

The two first include
all those who travel by land or by water, labouring with pride,
curiosity, vanity, or spleen, subdivided and combined in infinitum.
The third class includes the whole army of peregrine martyrs; more
especially those travellers who set out upon their travels with the
benefit of clergy, either as delinquints travelling under the direction
of governors recommended by the magistrate--or young
gentlemen transported by the cruelty of parents and guardians, and
travelling under the direction of governors recommended by Oxford,
Aberdeen, and Glasgow.

There is a fourth class,
but their number is so small, that they would not deserve a
distinction, was it not necessary in a work of this nature to observe
the greatest precision and nicety, to avoid a confusion of character.
And these men I speak of, are such as cross the seas and sojourn in a
land of strangers, with a view of saving money for various reasons and
upon various pretence: but as they might also save themselves and
others a great deal of unnecessary trouble by saving their money at home--and
as their reasons for travelling are the least complex of any other
species of emigrants, I shall distinguish these gentlemen by the name
of

Simple
Travellers.

Thus the whole circle of
travellers may be reduced to the following heads:

Idle Travellers,

Inquisitive Travellers,

Lying Travellers,

Proud Travellers,

Vain Travellers

Splenetic Travellers.

Then follow

The Travellers
of Necessity,

The delinquent and
felonious Traveller,

The simple Traveller.

And last of all (if you
please The Sentimental Traveller (meaning thereby myself), who have
travell'd, and of which I am now sitting down to give an account--as
much out of Necessity, and the besoin de Voyager, as
any one in the class.

I am well aware, at the
same time, as both my travels and observations will be altogether of a
different cast from any of my fore-runners; that I might have insisted
upon a whole nitch entirely to myself--but I should break
in upon the confines of the Vain Traveller, in wishing to draw
attention towards me, till I have some better grounds for it, than the
mere Novelty of my Vehicle. It is sufficient for my reader, if
he has been a Traveller himself, that with study and reflection
hereupon he may be able to determine his own place and rank in the
catalogue-- it will be one step towards knowing himself,
as it is
great odds but he retains some tincture and resemblance of what he
imbibed or carried out, to the present hour.

The man who first
transplanted the grape of Burgundy to the Cape of Good Hope (observe he
was Dutchman) never dreamt of drinking the same wine at the Cape, the
same grape produced upon the French mountains--he was too
phlegmatic for that-- but undoubtedly he expected to
drink some sort of vinous
liquor; but whether good, bad, or indifferent--he knew
enough of this world to know, that it did not depend upon his choice,
but that what is generally called chance was to decide his
success: however, he hoped for the best: and in these hopes, by an
intemperate confidence in the fortitude of his head, and in the depth
of his discretion, Mynheer might possibly overset both in his
new vineyard; and by discovering his nakedness, become a laughing-
stock to his people.

Even so it fares with
the poor Traveller, sailing and posting through the politer kingdoms of
the globe, in pursuit of knowledge and improvements.

Knowledge and
improvements are to be got by sailing and posting for that purpose; but
whether useful knowledge and real improvements, is all a lottery--and
even where the adventurer is successful, the acquired stock must be
used with caution and sobriety, to turn any profit--but as
the chances run prodigiously the other way, both as to the acquisition
and application, I am of opinion, That a man would act as wisely, if he
could prevail upon himself to live contented without foreign knowledge
or foreign improvements, especially if he lives in a country that has
no want of either--and indeed, much grief of heart has it
oft and many a time cost me, when I have observed how many a foul step
the inquisitive Traveller has measured to see sights and look into
discoveries; all which, as Sancho Panca said to Don Quixote, they might
have seen dry-shod at home. It is an age so full of light, that there
is scarce a country or corner of Europe, whose beams are not crossed
and interchanged with others--Knowledge in most of its
branches, and in most affairs, is like music in an Italian street,
whereof those may partake, who pay nothing--But there is
no nation under heaven--and God is my record (before whose
tribunal I must one day come and give an account of this work)--that
I do not speak it vauntingly-- But there is no nation
under heaven abounding with more
variety of learning--where the sciences may be more fitly
woo'd, or more surely won, than here--where Nature (take
her altogether) has so little to answer for--and, to close
all, where there is more wit and variety of character to feed the mind
with--Where then, my dear countrymen, are you going--

--We are only looking at
this chaise, said they--Your most obedient servant, said
I, skipping out of it, and pulling off my hat--We were
wondering, said one of them, who, I found, was an inquisitive
Traveller,--what could occasion its motion.--'Twas
the agitation, said I coolly, of writing a preface.--I
never heard, said the other, who was a simple Traveller, of a
preface wrote in a Désobligeant.--It would have
been better, said I, in a Vis-à-vis,

As an Englishman
does not travel to see Englishmen, I retired to my room.

Calais

I perceived that something
darken'd the passage more than myself, as I stepp'd along it to my
room; it was effectually Mons. Dessein, the master of the hotel, who
had just returned from vespers, and , with his hat under his arm, was
most complaisantly following me, to put me in mind of my wants. I had
wrote myself pretty well out of conceit with the Désobligeant;
and Mons. Dessein speaking of it, with a shrug, as if it would no way
suit me, it immediately struck my fancy that it belong'd to some innocent
Traveller, who, on his return home, had left it to Mons. Dessein's
honour to make the most of. Four months had elapsed since it had
finished its career of Europe in the corner of Mons. Dessein's
coachyard; and having sallied out from thence but a vampt-up business
at the first, though it had been twice taken to pieces on Mount Sennis,
it had not profited much by its adventures--but by none so
little as the standing so many months unpitied in the corner of Mons.
Dessein's coachyard. Much indeed might--and when a few
words will rescue misery out of her distress, I hate the man who can be
a churl of them.

--Now was
I the master of this hotel, said I, laying the point of my forefinger
of Mons. Dessein's breast, I would inevitably make a point of getting
rid of this unfortunate Désobligeant--it stands
swinging reproaches at you every time you pass by it--

Mon Dieu! Said
Mons. Dessein--I have no interest--Except the
interest, said I, which men of a certain turn of mind take, Mons.
Dessein, in their own sensations--I'm persuaded, to a man
who feels for others as well as for himself, every rainy night,
disguise it as you will, must cast a damp upon your spirits--You
suffer, Mons. Dessein, as much as the machine--

I have always observed,
when there is as much sour as sweet in a compliment,
that an Englishman is eternally at a loss within himself, whether to
take it or let it alone: a Frenchman never is: Mons. Dessein made me a
bow.

C'est bien vrai,
said he--But in this case I should only exchange one
disquietude for another, and with loss: figure to yourself, my dear
Sir, that in giving you a chaise which would fall to pieces before you
had got half way to Paris-- figure to yourself how much I
should suffer, in giving
an ill impression of myself to a man of honour, and lying at the mercy,
as I must do, d'un homme d'esprit.

The dose was made up
exactly after my own prescription; so I could not help taking it--and
returning Mons. Dessein his bow, without more casuistry we walk'd
together towards his Remise, to take a view of his magazine of chaises.

Calais--In
the Street

It must needs be a hostile
kind of a world, when the buyer (if it be but of a sorry post-chaise)
cannot go forth with the seller thereof into the street, to terminate
the difference betwixt them, but he instantly falls into the same frame
of mind, and views his conventionist with the same sort of eye, as if
he was going along with him to Hyde-park-corner to fight a duel. For my
own part, being but a poor swordsman, and no way a match for Monsieur
Dessein, I felt the rotation of all the movements within me, to which
the situation is incident--I looked at Monsieur Dessein--eyed
him as he walk'd along in profile--then, en face--thought
he look'd like a Jew--then a Turk--disliked
his wig--cursed him by my gods--wished him at
the devil--

--And is
all this to be lighted up in the heart for a beggarly account of three
or four louis d'ors, which is the most I can be over-reached in?--Base
passion! said I, turning myself about, as a man naturally does upon a
sudden reverse of sentiment--base ungentle passion! thy
hand is against every man, and every man's hand against thee--Heaven
forbid! said she, raising her hand up to her forehead, for I had turned
full in front upon the lady whom I had seen in conference with the monk--she
had followed us unperceived-- Heaven forbid, indeed! said
I, offering her my own-- she had a black pair of silk
gloves, open only at the
thumb and two fore-fingers, so accepted it without reserve--and
I led her up to the door of the Remise.

Monsieur Dessein had diabled
the key above fifty times, before he found out he had come with a wrong
one in his hand: we were as impatient as himself to have it open'd; and
so attentive to the obstacle, that I continued holding her hand almost
without knowing it: so that Monsieur Dessein left us together, with her
hand in mine, and with our faces turned towards the door of the Remise,
and said he would be back in five minutes.

Now a colloquy of five
minutes, in such a situation, is worth one of as many ages with your
face turned towards the street: in the latter case, 'tis drawn from the
objects and occurrences without-- when your eyes are
fixed upon a dead blank--you
draw purely from yourselves. A silence of a single moment upon Mons.
Dessein's leaving us, had been fatal to the situation-- she
had infallibly turned about--so I began
the conversation instantly--

--But what
were the temptations (as I write not to apologise for the weaknesses of
my heart in this tour,-- but to give an account of them)--shall
be
described with the same simplicity, with which I felt them.

Calais--The
Remise Door

When I told the reader that
I did not care to get out of the Désobligeant, because I saw
the monk in close conference with a lady just arrived at the inn--I
told him the whole truth; for I was full as much restrained by the
appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Suspicion crossed
my brain, and said, he was telling her what had passed, something
jarred upon it within me--I wished him at his convent.

When the heart flies out
before the understanding, it saves the judgement a world of pains--I
was certain she was of a better order of beings--however,
I thought no more of her, but went on and wrote my preface.

The impression returned
upon my encounter with her in the street; a guarded frankness, with
which she gave me her hand, shewed, I thought, her good education and
her good sense; and as I led her on, I felt a pleasurable ductility
about her, which spread a calmness over all my spirits--

--Good
God! how a man might lead such a creature as this round the world with
him!

I had not yet seen her
face--'twas not material; for the drawing was instantly
set about, and long before we had got to the door of the Remise, Fancy
had finish'd the whole head, and pleased herself as much with its
fitting goddess, as if she had dived into the Tiber for it--but
thou art a seduced, and a seducing slut; and albeit thou cheatest us
seven times a day with thy pictures and images, yet with so many charms
dost thou do it, and thou deckest out thy pictures in the shapes of so
many angels of light, 'tis a shame to break with thee.

When we had got to the
door of the Remise, she withdrew her hand from across her forehead, and
let me see the original--it was a face of about six and
twenty--of a clear transparent brown, simply set off
without rouge or powder--it was not critically handsome,
but there was that in it, which, in the frame of mind I was in,
attached me much more to it--it was interesting; I fancied
it wore the character of a widow'd look, and in that state of its
declension, which had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, and was
quietly beginning to reconcile itself to its loss-
but a thousand other distresses might have traced the same lines; I
wish'd to know what they might have been--and was ready to
enquire (had the same bon ton of conversation been permitted,
as in the days of Esdras)--'What aileth thee? and why
art thou disquieted? and why is thy understanding troubled?'--In
a word, I felt benevolence for her; and resolv'd some way or other to
throw in my mite of courtesy-- if not of service.

Such were my temptations--and
in this disposition to give way to them, was I left alone with this
lady with her hand in mine, and with our faces both turned closer to
the door of the Remise than what was absolutely necessary.

Calais--The
Remise Door

This certainly, fair lady!
said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, must be one of
Fortune's whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their hands--of
different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe, and
in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as
Friendship herself could scarce have atchieved for them had she
projected it for a month--And your reflection upon it,
shews how much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure--

When the situation is
what we would wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to hint at the
circumstances which make it so: you thank Fortune, continued she--you
had reason--the heart knew it, and was satisfied; and who
but an English philosopher would have sent notice of it to the brain to
reverse the judgment?

In saying this she
disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary
upon the text.

It is a miserable
picture which I am going to give of the weakness of my heart, by owning
that it suffered a pain, which worthier occasions could not have
inflicted--I was mortified with the loss of her hand, and
the manner in which I had lost it carried neither oil nor wine to the
wound: I never felt the pain of a sheepish inferiority so miserable in
my life.

The triumphs of a true
feminine heart are short upon the discomfitures. In a very few seconds
she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her
reply; so some way or other, God knows how, I regained my situation.

I forthwith began to
model a different conversation for the lady, thinking from the spirit
as well as moral of this, that I had been mistaken in her character;
but upon turning her face towards me, the spirit which had animated the
reply was fled--the muscles relaxed, and I beheld the same
unprotected look of distress which had first won me to her interest--melancholy!
to see such sprightliness the prey of sorrow--I pitied her
from my soul; and though it may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid heart--I
could have taken her into my arms, and cherished her, though it was in
the open street, without blushing.

The pulsations of the
arteries along my fingers pressing across her's, told her what was
passing within me: she looked down--a silence of some
moments followed.

I fear, in this
interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer
compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of
my own--not as if she was going to withdraw hers--but
as if she thought about it--and I had infallibly lost it a
second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last
resource in these dangers-- to hold it more loosely and
in a manner as if I was
every moment going to release it, of myself; so she let it continue,
till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the mean time I set
myself how to undo the ill impressions which the poor monk's story, in
case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me.

Calais--The
Snuff-box

The good old monk was
within six paces of us, as the idea of him cross'd my mind; and was
advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether
he should break in upon us or no-- He stopp'd, however,
as soon as he came up to us, with a
world of frankness:and having a horn snuff-box in his hand, he
presented it open to me--You shall taste mine--said
I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one) and putting it
into his hand--'Tis most excellent, said the monk; Then do
me the favour, I replied, to accept of the box and all, and when you
take a pinch out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace-
offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.

The poor monk blush'd as
red as scarlet. Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands together--you
never used me unkindly.--I should think, said the lady, he
is not likely. I blush'd in my turn; but from what movements I leave to
the few who feel to analyse--Excuse me, Madame, replied I--I
treated him most unkindly; and from no provocations. 'Tis impossible,
said the lady--My God! cried the monk, with a warmth of
asseveration which seem'd not to belong to him-
-the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal-
-the lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it
impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his, could give offence to
any.

I knew not that
contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the
nerves as I then felt it.--We remained silent without any
sensation of that foolish pain which takes place, when in such a circle
you look for ten minutes in one another's faces without saying a word.
Whilst this lasted, the monk rubb'd his horn box upon the sleeve of his
tunick; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by
the friction--he made a low bow, and said, 'twas too late
to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had
involved us in this contest-- but be it as it would--he
begg'd we might
exchange boxes--In saying this, he presented his to me
with one hand, as he took mine from me in the other; and having kissed
it--with a stream of good-nature in his eyes he put it
into his bosom--and took his leave.

I guard this box, as I
would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to
something better: in truth, I seldom go abroad without it: and oft and
many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to
regulate my own, in the justlings of the world; they had found full
employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the
forty-fifth year of his age, when upon some military services ill
requited, and meeting at the same time with a disappointment in the
tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and
took sanctuary, not so much in the convent as in himself.

I feel a damp upon my
spirits, as I am going to add, that in my last return through Calais,
upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near
three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his
desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off: I
had a strong desire to see where they had laid him--when
upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and
plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to
grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections,
that I burst into a flood of tears-
-but I am weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but
pity me.

Calais--The
Remise Door

I had never quitted the
lady's hand all this time; and had held it so long, that it would have
been indecent to have let it go, without first pressing it to my lips:
the blood and spirits, which had suffered a revulsion from her, crowded
back to her, as I did it.

Now the two travellers,
who had spoke to me in the coach-yard, happened at that crisis to be
passing by, and observing our communications, naturally took it into
their heads that we must be man and wife, at least; so stopping
as soon as they came up to the door of the Remise, the one of them, who
was the inquisitive Traveller, ask'd us, if we set out for Paris the
next morning?-- I could only answer for myself, I said;
and the lady
added, she was for Amiens--We dined there yesterday, said
the simple Traveller--You go directly through the town,
added the other, in your road to Paris. I was going to return a
thousand thanks for the intelligence, 'that Amiens was in the road
to Paris'; but upon pulling out my poor monk's little horn box to
take a pinch of snuff, I made them a quiet bow, and wished them a good
passage to Dover--they left us alone--

Now where would be the
harm, said I to myself, if I was to beg of this distressed lady to
accept of half my chaise?--and what mighty mischief could
ensue?

Every dirty passion, and
bad propensity in my nature, took the alarm, as I stated the proposition--it
will oblige you to have a third horse, said AVARICE,
which will put twenty livres out of your pocket-- You know
not what she is, said CAUTION--or
what scrapes the affair may draw you into, whispered COWARDICE--

Depend upon it, Yorick!
said DISCRETION, 'twill be said you went off with
a mistress, and came by assignation to Calais for that purpose.

--You can never after,
cried HYPOCRISY aloud, shew your face in the world--or
rise, quoth MEANNESS, in the church--or
be any thing in it, said PRIDE, but a lousy
prebendary.

But 'tis a civil thing,
said I--and as I generally act from the first impulse, and
therefore seldom listen to those cabals, which serve no purpose, that I
know of, but to encompass the heart with adamant--I turn'd
instantly about to the lady-
-

--But she had glided off
unperceived, as the cause was pleading, and had made ten or a dozen
paces down the street, by the time I had made the determination; so I
set off after her with a long stride, to make her the proposal with the
best address I was master of; but observing she walk'd with her cheek
half resting upon the palm of her hand--with the slow,
short-measur'd step of thoughtfulness, and with her eyes, as she went
step by step, fixed upon the ground, it struck me, she was trying the
same cause herself. God help her! said I, she has some mother-in-law,
or tartufish aunt, or nonsensical old woman, to consult upon the
occasion, as well as myself: so not caring to interrupt the processe,
and deeming it more gallant to take her at discretion than surprise, I
faced about, and took a short turn or two before the door of the
Remise, whilst she walk'd musing on one side.

Calais--In
the Street

Having, on the first sight
of the lady, settled the affair in my fancy, 'that she was of the
better order of beings'--and then laid it down as a second
axiom, as indisputable as the first, that she was a widow, and wore a
character of distress--I went no further; I got ground
enough for the situation which pleased me--and had she
remained close beside my elbow till midnight, I should have held true
to my system, and considered her only under that general idea.

She had scarce got
twenty paces distant from me, ere something within me called out for a
more particular enquiry--it brought on the idea of a
further separation--I might possibly never see her more--the
heart is for saving what it can; and I wanted the traces through which
my wishes might find their way to her, in case I should never rejoin
her myself: in a word, I wish'd to know her name--her
family's--her condition; and as I knew the place to which
she was going, I wanted to know from whence she came: but there was no
coming at all this intelligence: a hundred little delicacies stood in
the way. I form'd a score different plans--There was no
such thing as a man's asking her directly--the thing was
impossible.

A little French débonnaire
captain, who came dancing down the street, shewed me, it was the
easiest thing in the world; for popping in betwixt us, just as the lady
was returning back to the door of the Remise, he introduced himself to
my acquaintance, and before he had well got announced, begg'd I would
do him the honour to present him to the lady--I had not
been presented myself-- so turning about to her, he did
it just as well by
asking her, if she had come from Paris? No, she was going that route,
she said.--Vous n'êtes pas de Londres?-- She
was not, she replied.--Then Madame must
have come through Flanders--Apparemment vous êtes
Flamande? said the French captain--The lady answered,
she was--Peut-être de Lisle? added he-
-She said, she was not of Lisle.--nor Arras?--nor
Cambrya?--nor Ghent?-- nor Brussels? she
answered, she was of Brussels.

He had the honour, he
said, to be at the bombardment of it last war-- that it
was finely situated, pour cela--and full of
noblesse when the Imperialists were driven out by the French (the lady
made a slight courtsy)-- so giving her an account of the
affair, and of the share
he had had in it--he begg'd the honour to know her name--
so made his bow.

Et Madame a son Mari?
said he, looking back when he had made two steps--and
without staying for an answer-- danced down the street.

Had I served seven
years' apprenticeship to good breeding, I could not have done as much.

Calais--The
Remise

As the little French
captain left us, Mons. Dessein came up with the key of the Remise in
his hand, and forthwith let us into his magazine of chaises.

The first object which
caught my eye, as Mons. Dessein open'd the door of the Remise, was
another tatter'd Désobligeant: and notwithstanding it was the
exact picture of that which had hit my fancy so much in the coachyard
but an hour before--the very sight of it stirr'd up a
disagreeable sensation within me now; and I thought 'twas a churlish
beast into whose heart the idea could first enter, to construct such a
machine; nor had I much more charity for the man who could think of
using it.

I observed the lady was
as little taken with it as myself: so Mons. Dessein led us on to a
couple of chaises which stood abreast, telling us, as he recommended
them, that they had been purchased by my Lord A. and B. to go the grand
tour, but had gone no further than Paris, so were in all respects
as good--as new-- They were too good--so
I pass'd on to a
third, which stood behind, and forthwith began to chaffer for the
price. But 'twill scarce hold two, said I, opening the door and getting
in-
-Have the goodness, Madam, said Mons. Dessein, offering his arm,
to step in--The lady hesitated half a second, and stepp'd
in; and the waiter that moment beckoning to speak to Mons. Dessein, he
shut the door of the chaise upon us, and left us.

Calais--The
Remise

C'est bien comique,
'tis very droll, said the lady smiling, from the reflection that this
was the second time we had been left together by a parcel of
nonsensical contingencies-- C'est bien comique,
said she--

--There wants nothing,
said I, to make it so, but the comic use which the gallantry of a
Frenchman would put it to--to make love the first moment,
and an offer of his person the second. 'Tis their fort, replied
the lady.

It is supposed so at
least--and how it has come to pass, continued I, I know
not: but they have certainly got the credit of understanding more of
love, and making it better than any other nation upon earth; but for my
own part, I think them arrant bunglers, and in truth the worst set of
marksmen that ever tried Cupid's patience.--To think of
making love by sentiments!

I should as soon think
of making a genteel suit of cloaths out of remnants:--and
to do it--pop-- at first sight by declaration--is
submitting the offer and themselves with it, to be sifted with all
their pours and contres, by an unheated mind.

The lady attended as if
she expected I should go on.

Consider then, madam,
continued I, laying my hand upon hers--

That grave people hate
Love for the name's sake--

That selfish people hate
it for their own--

Hypocrites for heaven's--

And that all of us, both
old and young, being ten times worse frighten'd than hurt by the very report--

--What a
want of knowledge in this branch of commerce a man betrays, who ever
lets the word come out of his lips, till an hour or two at least after
the time, that his silence upon it becomes tormenting. A course of
small, quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm--nor
so vague as to be misunderstood-- with now and then a
look of kindness, and little or
nothing said upon it--leaves nature for your mistress, and
she fashions it to her mind--

Then I solemnly declare,
said the lady, blushing--you have been making love to me
all this while.

Calais--The
Remise

Monsieur Dessein came back
to let us out of the chaise, and acquaint the lady, Count de L--,
her brother, was just arrived at the hotel. Though I had infinite
good-will for the lady, I cannot say, that I rejoiced in my heart at
the event--and could not help telling her so--
for it is fatal to a proposal, Madam, said I, that I was going to make
to you--

You need not tell me
what the proposal was, said she, laying her hand upon both mine, as she
interrupted me.--A man, my good Sir, has seldom an offer
of kindness to make to a woman, but she has a presentiment of it some
moments before--

Nature arms her with it,
said I, for immediate preservation-- But I think, said
she, looking in my face, I had no evil
to apprehend--and to deal frankly with you, had determined
to accept it.--If I had--(she stopped a
moment)--I believe your good-will would have drawn a story
from me, which would have made pity the only dangerous thing in the
journey.

In saying this, she
suffered me to kiss her hand twice, and with a look of sensibility
mixed with a concern, she got out of the chaise-- and bid
adieu.

Calais--In
the Street

I never finished a
twelve-guinea bargain so expeditiously in my life: my time seemed heavy
upon the loss of the lady, and knowing every moment of it would be as
two, till I put myself into motion-- I ordered
post-horses directly, and walked towards the
hotel.

Lord! said I, hearing
the town-clock strike four, and recollecting that I had been little
more than a single hour in Calais--

What a large volume of
adventures may be grasped within this little span of life, by him who
interests his heart in every thing, and who, having eyes to see what
time and chance are perpetually holding out to him as he journeyeth on
his way, misses nothing he can fairly lay his hands on.--

--If this won't turn out
something--another will-- no matter--'tis
an assay upon human nature-- I get my labour for my pains--'tis
enough-- the pleasure of the experiment has kept my
sense and
the best part of my blood awake, and laid the gross to sleep.

I pity the man who can
travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis all barren--and
so it is; and so is all the world to him, who will not cultivate the
fruits it offers. I declare, said I, clapping my hands cheerily
together, that was I in a desert, I would find out wherewith in it to
call forth my affections--If I could not do better, I
would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy
cypress to connect myself to--I would court their shade,
and greet them kindly for their protection-- I would cut
my name upon them, and swear they were the
loveliest trees throughout the desert: if their leaves wither'd I would
teach myself to mourn, and when they rejoiced, I would rejoice along
with them.

The learned Smelfungus
travelled from Boulogne to Paris-- from Paris to Rome--and
so on--but
he set out with the spleen and jaundice, and every object he pass'd by
was discoloured or distorted--He wrote an account of them,
but 'twas nothing but the account of his miserable feelings.

I met Smelfungus in the
grand portico of the pantheon--he was just coming out of it--'Tis
nothing but a huge cockpit,'* said he--I wish you had
said nothing worse of the Venus of Medicis, replied I--
for in passing through Florence, I had heard he had fallen foul upon
the goddess, and used her worse than a common strumpet, without the
least provocation in nature.

__________Vide S_______'s 'Travels.'

I popp'd upon Smelfungus
again at Turin, in his return home; and a sad tale of sorrowful
adventures he had to tell, 'wherein he spoke of moving accidents by
flood and field, and of the cannibals which each other eat: the
Anthropophagi'--he had been flay'd alive, and bedevil'd,
and used worse than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he had come at--

--I'll
tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world. You had better tell it, said
I, to your physician.

Mundungus, with an
immense fortune, made the whole tour; going on from Rome to Naples--from
Naples to Venice--from Venice to Vienna--to
Dresden, to Berlin, without one generous connection or pleasurable
anecdote to tell of; but he had travell'd straight on, looking neither
to his right hand or his left lest Love or Pity should seduce him out
of his road.

Peace be to them! if it
is to be found; but heaven itself, was it possible to get there with
such tempers, would want objects to give it--every gentle
spirit would come flying upon the wings of Love to hail their arrival--Nothing
would the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus hear of, but fresh anthems
of joy, fresh raptures of love, and fresh congratulations of their
common felicity--I heartily pity them: they have brought
up no faculties for this work; and was the happiest mansion in heaven
to be allotted to Smelfungus and Mundungus, they would be so far from
being happy, that the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus would do
penance there to all eternity.

Montriul

I had once lost my
portmanteau from behind my chaise, and twice got out in the rain, and
one of the times up to the knees in dirt, to help the postillion to tie
it on, without being able to find out what was wanting--Nor
was it till I got to Montriul, upon the landlord's asking if I wanted
not a servant, that it occurred to me, that that was the very
thing.

A servant! That I do
most sadly, quoth I--Because, Monsieur, said the landlord,
there is a clever young fellow, who would be very proud of the honour
to serve an Englishman.--But why and English one, more
than any other?--They are so generous, said the landlord--I'll
be shot if this is not a livre out of my pocket, quoth I to myself,
this very night-- But they have wherewithal to be so,
Monsieur, added he-- Set down one more livre more for
that. quoth I--It
was but last night, said the landlord, qu'un my Lord Anglois
présentoit un écu à la fille de chambre-- Tant pis, pour
Mademoiselle Janatone, said I

Now Janatone being the
landlord's daughter, and the landlord supposing I was young in French,
took the liberty to inform me, I should not have said 'tant pis'--but
'tant mieux.' Tant mieux, toujours, Monsieur, said he,
when there is anything to be got--tant pis, when
there is nothing. It comes to the same thing, said I. Pardonnez-moi,
said the landlord.

I cannot take a fitter
opportunity to observe once for all, that 'tant pis' and 'tant
mieux' being two of the great hinges in French conversation, a
stranger would do well to set himself right in the use of them, before
he gets to Paris.

A prompt French Marquis
at our ambassador's table demanded of Mr. H--, if he was H--
the poet? No, said H-- mildly--Tant pis,
replied the Marquis.

It is H--
the historian, said another-- Tant mieux, said the
Marquis. And Mr. H--,
who is a man of an excellent heart, return'd thanks for both.

When the landlord had
set me right in this matter, he called in La Fleur, which was the name
of the young man he had spoken of-- saying only first,
That as for his talents, he would
presume to say nothing-- Monsieur was the best judge of
what would suit him; but for the fidelity of La Fleur, he would stand
responsible in all he was worth.

The landlord deliver'd
this in a manner which instantly set my mind to the business I was upon--and
La Fleur, who stood waiting without, in that breathless expectation
which every son of nature of us have felt in our turns, came in.

Montriul

I am apt to be taken with
all kinds of people at first sight; but never more so, than when a poor
devil comes to offer his service to so poor a devil as myself; and as I
know this weakness, I always suffer my judgment to draw back something
on that very account-- and this more or less, according
to the mood I am in,
and the case--and I may add the gender too of the person I
am to govern.

When La Fleur entered
the room, after avery discount I could make for my soul, the genuine
look and air of the fellow determined the matter at once in his favour;
so I hired him first--and then began to enquire what he
could do; But I shall find out his talents, quoth I, as I want them--besides,
a Frenchman can do every thing.

Now poor La Fleur could
do nothing in the world but beat a drum and play a march or two upon
the fife. I was determined to make his talents do: and can't say my
weakness was ever so insulted by my wisdom, as in the attempt.

La Fleur had set out
early in life, as gallantly as most Frenchmen do, with serving
for a few years: at the end of which, having satisfied the sentiment,
and found moreover, That the honour of beating a drum was likely to be
its own reward, as it open'd no further track of glory to him--he
retired à ses terres, and lived comme il plaisoit à Dieu--
that is to say, upon nothing.

And so, quoth Wisdom,
you have hired a drummer to attend you in this tour of yours through
France and Italy! Psha! said I, and do not one half of our gentry go
with a humdrum compagnon du voyage the same round, and have the
piper and the devil and all to pay besides? When man can extricate
himself with an équivoque in such an unequal match--he
is not ill off-- But you can do something else, La Fleur?
said I--O qu'oui!--he could make
spatterdashes, and play a little upon the fiddle--Bravo!
said Wisdom--Why I play a bass myself, said I--we
shall do very well. You can shave, and dress a wig a little, La Fleur?--He
had all the dispositions in the world--It is enough for
heaven! said I, interrupting him--and ought to be enough
for me--So supper coming in, and having a frisky English
Spaniel on one side of my chair, and a French valet, with as much
hilarity in his countenance as ever nature painted in one, on the other--I
was satisfied to my heart's content with my empire; and if monarchs
knew what they would be at, they might be satisfied as I was.

Montriul

As La Fleur went the whole
of France and Italy with me, and will be often upon the stage, I must
interest the reader a little further in his behalf, by saying, that I
had never less reason to repent of the impulses which generally do
determine me, than in regard to this fellow--he was a
faithful, affectionate, simple soul as ever trudged after the heels of
a philosopher; and notwithstanding his talents of drum-beating and
spatterdash-making, which, though very good in themselves, happened to
be of no great service to me, yet I was hourly recompensed by the
festivity of his temper--it supplied all defects--I had a
constant resource in his looks, in all difficulties and distresses of
my own--I was going to have added, of his too; but La
Fleur was out of the reach of everything; for whether it was hunger or
thirst, or cold or nakedness, or watchings, or whatever stripes of ill
luck La Fleur met with in our journeyings, there was no index in his
physiognomy to point them out by--he was eternally the
same; so that if I am a piece of a philosopher, which Satan now and
then puts into my head I am-- it always mortifies the
pride of the conseit, by
reflecting how much I owe to the complexional philosophy of this poor
fellow, for shaming me into one of a better kind. With all this, La
FLeur had a small cast of the coxcomb--but he seemed at
first sight to be more a coxcomb of nature than of art; and before I
had been three days in Paris with him--he seemed to be no
coxcomb at all.

Montriul

The next morning, La Fleur
entering upon his employment, I delivered to him the key of my
portmanteau, with an inventory of my half a dozen shirts and silk pair
of breeches; and bid him fasten all upon the chaise--get
the horses put to--and desire the landlord to come in with
his bill.

C'est un garçon de
bonne fortune, said the landlord, pointing through the window to
half a dozen wenches who had got round about La Fleur, and were most
kindly taking their leave of him, as the postillion was leading out the
horses. La Fleur kissed all their hands round and round again, and
thrice he wiped his eyes, and thrice promised he would bring them all
pardons from Rome.

The young fellow, said
the landlord, is beloved by all the town, and there is scarce a corner
in Montriul, where the want of him will not be felt: he has but one
misfortune in the world, continued he, 'He is always in love.'--I
am heartily glad of it, said I-
-'twill save me the trouble every night of putting my breeches
under my head. In saying this, I was not so much La Fleur's éloge,
as my own, having been in love, with one princess or other, almost all
my life, and I hope I shall go on till I die, being firmly persuaded,
that if I ever do a mean action, it must be in some interval betwixt
one passion and another: whilst this interregnum lasts, I always
perceive my heart locked up-- I can scarce find in it to
give Misery a six-pence; and
therefore I always get out of it as fast as I can, and the moment I am
rekindled, I am all generosity and good-will again; and would do any
thing in the world, either for or with any one, if they will but
satisfy me there is no sin in it.--But in saying this--sure
I am commending the passion--not myself.

A
Fragment

The town of Abdera,
notwithstanding Democritus lived there, trying all the powers of irony
and laughter to reclaim it, was the vilest and most profligate town in
all Thrace. What for poisons, conspiracies, and assassinations--libels,
pasquinades, and tumults, there was no going there by day--'twas
worse by night.

Now, when things were at
the worst, it came to pass, that the 'Andromeda' of Euripides being
represented at Abdera, the whole orchestra was delighted with it: but
of all the passages which delighted them, nothing operated more upon
their imaginations, than the tender strokes of nature, which the poet
had wrought up in that pathetic speech of Perseus, 'O Cupid, prince
of God and men,' &c. Every man spoke pure iambics the next day,
and talk'd of nothing but Perseus his pathetic address--'O
Cupid, prince of God and men'--in every street of Abdera,
in every house--'O Cupid! Cupid!'-- in every
mouth, like the natural notes of some sweet melody which drops from it
whether it will or no--nothing but 'Cupid! Cupid! prince
of God and men'--The fire caught--and the
whole city, like the heart of one man, open'd itself to Love.

No pharmacopolist could
sell one grain of helebore--not a single armourer had a
heart to forge one instrument of death-- Friendship and
Virtue met together, and kiss'd each
other in the street--the golden age returned, and hung
over the town of Abdera--every Abderite took his oaten
pipe, and every Abderitish woman left her purple web, and chastely sat
down and listened to the song--

'Twas only in the power,
says the Fragment, of the God whose empire extendeth from heaven to
earth, and even to the depths of the sea, to have done this.

Montriul

When all is ready, and
every article is disputed and paid for in the inn, unless you are a
little sour'd by the adventure, there is always a matter to compound at
the door, before you can get into your chaise, and that is with the
sons and daughters of poverty, who surround you. Let no man say, 'let
them go to the devil'--'tis a cruel journey to send a few
miserables, and they have had sufferings enow without it: I always
think it better to take a few sous out in my hand; and I would counsel
every gentle traveller to do so likewise; he need not be so exact in
setting down his motives for giving them--They will be
register'd elsewhere.

For my own part, there
is no man gives so little as I do; for few, that I know, have so little
to give: but as this was the first public act of my charity in France,
I took the more notice of it.

A well-a-way! said I, I
have but eight sous in the word, showing them in my hand, and there are
eight poor men and eight poor women for 'em.

A poor tatter'd soul,
without a shirt on, instantly withdrew his claim, by retiring two steps
out of the circle, and making a disqualifying bow on his part. Had the
whole parterre cried out, 'Place aux dames,' with one
voice, it would not have conveyed the sentiment of a deference for the
sex with half the effect.

Just Heaven! for what
wise reasons hast thou ordered it, that beggary and urbanity, which are
a t such variance in other countries, should find a way to be at unity
in this?

--I insisted upon
presenting him with a single sous, merely for his politesse.

A poor little dwarfish,
brisk fellow, who stood over against me in the circle, putting
something first under his arm, which had once been a hat, took his
snuff-box out of his pocket, and generously offer'd a pinch on both
sides of him: it was a gift of consequence, and modestly declined--The
poor little fellow press'd it upon them with a nod of welcomeness--Prenez-en--
prenez, said he, looking another way; so they each
took a pinch--Pity thy box should ever want one, said I to
myself; so I put a couple of sous into it--taking a small
pinch out of his box, to enhance their value, as I did it.-- He
felt the weight of the second obligation more than of
the first--'twas doing him an honour--the
other was only doing him a charity--and he made me a bow
down to the ground for it.

--Here! said I to an old
soldier with one hand, who had been campaign'd and worn out to death in
the service--here's a couple of sous for thee. Vive le
Roi! said the old soldier.

I had then but three
sous left: so I gave one, simply pour l'amour de Dieu, which
was the footing on which it was begg'd-- The poor woman
had a dislocated hip; so it could not
well be upon any other motive.

My Lord Anglois--the
very sound was worth the money--so I gave my last sous
for it. But in the eagerness of giving, I had overlooked pauvre
honteaux, who had no one to ask a sous for him, and who, I
believed, would have perished ere he could have ask'd one for himself:
he stood by the chaise, a little without the circle, and wiped a tear
from a face which I thought had seen better days-- Good
God! said I-- and I have not one single sous left to give
him-- But you have a thousand! cried all the powers of
nature,
stirring within me--so I gave him--no matter
what--I am ashamed to say how much, now-- and
was ashamed to think how little, then; so if the
reader can form any conjecture of my disposition, as these two fixed
points are given him, he may judge within a livre or two what was the
precise sum.

I could afford nothing
for the rest, but 'Dieu vous bénisse'--Et le bon Dieu
vous bénisse encore--said the old soldier, the dwarf,
&c. The pauvre honteaux could say nothing--he
pull'd out a little handkerchief, and wiped his face as he turned away--
and I thought he thanked me more than them all.

The
Bidet

Having settled all these
little matters, I got into my post-chaise with more ease than ever I
got into a post-chaise in my life; and La Fleur having got one large
jack-boot on the far side of a little bidet,* and another on
this (for I count nothing of his legs)-- he canter'd away
before me as happy and as perpendicular as a prince--

__________*Post horse.

--But what is happiness!
what is grandeur in this painted scene of life! A dead ass, before we
had got a league, put a sudden stop to La Fleur's career--his
bidet would not pass by it-- a contention arose betwixt
them, and the poor fellow was
kick'd out of his jack-boots the very first kick.

La Fleur bore his fall
like a French christian, saying neither more or less upon it, than Diable!
so presently got up and came to the charge again astride his bidet,
beating him up to it as he would have beat his drum.

The bidet flew from one
side of the road to the other, then back again--then this
way--then that way, and in short every way but by the dead
ass--La Fleur insisted upon the thing--and
the bidet threw him.

What's the matter, La
Fleur, said I, with this bidet of of thine?--Monsieur,
said he, c'est un cheval le plus opinionâtre du monde--Nay,
if he is a conceited beast, he must go his own way, replied I--so
La Fleur got off him, and giving him a good sound lash, the bidet took
me at my word, and away he scamper'd back to Montriul--Peste!
said La Fleur.

It is not mal-à-propos
to take notice here, that though La Fleur availed himself of but two
different terms of exclamation in this encounter--namely, 'Diable!'
and 'Peste!' that there are nevertheless three, in the French
language; like the positive, comparative, and superlative, one or the
other of which serve for every unexpected throw of the dice in life.

Le Diable!'
which is the first, and positive degree, is generally used upon
ordinary emotions of the mind, where small things only fall out
contrary to your expectations--such as--the
throwing once doublets--La Fleur's being kick'd of his
horse, and so forth-- Cuckoldom, for the same reason, is
always 'Le Diable!'

But in cases where the
cast has something provoking in it, as in that of the bidet's running
away after, and leaving La Fleur aground in jack-boots--'tis
the second degree.

'Tis then 'Peste!'

And for the third--

--But here my heart is
wrung with pity and fellow-feeling, when I reflect what miseries must
have been their lot, and how bitterly so refined a people must have
smarted, to have forced upon them the use of it--

Grant me, O ye powers
which touch the tongue with eloquence in distress!--whatever
is my cast, grant me but decent words to exclaim in, and I will
give my nature way.

--But as these were not
to be had in France, I resolved to take every evil just as it befel me
without any exclamation at all.

La Fleur, who had made
no such covenant with himself, followed the bidet with his eyes till it
was got out of sight--and then, you may imagine, if you
please, with what word he closed the whole affair.

As there was no hunting
down a frighten'd horse in jack-boots, there remained no alternative
but taking La Fleur either behind the chaise, or into it--

I preferred the latter,
and in half an hour we got to the post-house at Nampont.

Nampont--The
Dead Ass

And this, said he, putting
the remains of a crust into his wallet--and this, should
have been thy portion, said he, hadst thou been alive to have shared it
with me.--I thought by the accent, it had been an
apostrophe to his child; but 'twas to his ass, and to the very ass we
had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned La Fleur's
misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly
brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with
more true touches of nature.

The mourner was sitting
upon a stone-bench at the door, with the ass's pannel and its bridle on
one side, which he took up from time to time--then laid
them down--look'd at them and shook his head. He then took
his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it
some time in his hand-- then laid it upon the bit of his
ass's bridle--
looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made-- and
then gave a sigh.

The simplicity of his
grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur amongst the rest, whilst the
horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting in the post-chaise, I
could see and hear over their heads.

--He said he had come
last from Spain, where he had been from the furthest borders of
Franconia; and had got so far on his return home, when his ass died.
Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old
and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.

It had pleased Heaven,
he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany;
but having in one week lost two of the eldest of them by the small-pox,
and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of
being bereft of them all; and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him
from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain. When the
mourner got thus far on his story, he stopp'd to pay nature his tribute--and
wept bitterly.

He said, Heaven had
accepted his conditions, and that he had set out from his cottage with
this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey--that
it had eat the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a
friend.

Every body who stood
about, heard the poor fellow with concern-- La Fleur
offered him money--The mourner
said, he did not want it--it was not the value of the ass--
but the loss of him--and upon this told
them a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean
mountains which had separated them from each other three days; during
which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and
that they had neither scarce eat or drink till they met.

Thou hast one comfort,
friend, said I, at least in the loss of thy poor beast; I'm sure thou
hast been a merciful master to him.-- Alas! said the
mourner, I thought so, when he was alive-- but now that
he is dead, I think otherwise.--I
fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too
much for him--they have shortened the poor creature's
days, and I fear I have them to answer for.--Shame on the
world! said I to myself--Did we love each other, as this
poor soul but loved his ass--'twould be something.-
-

Nampont--The
Postillion

The concern which the poor
fellow's story threw me into required some attention: the postillion
paid not the least to it, but set off upon the pavé in a full
gallop.

The thirstiest soul in
the most sandy desert of Arabia could not have wished more for a cup of
cold water, than mine did for grave and quiet movements; and I should
have had an high opinion of the postillion, had he but stolen off with
me in something like a pensive pace-- On the contrary, as
the mourner finished his
lamentation, the fellow gave an unfeeling lash to each of his beasts,
and set off clattering like a thousand devils.

I called to him as loud
as I could, for heaven's sake to go slower-- and the
louder I called, the more unmercifully he galloped--The
duce take him and his galloping too--said I--he-ll
go on tearing my nerves to pieces till he has worked me into a foolish
passion, and then he'll go slow, that I may enjoy the sweets of it.

The postillion managed
the point to a miracle: by the time he had got to the foot of a steep
hill about half a league from Nampont,-- he had put me
out of temper with him--and
then with myself, for being so.

My case then required a
different treatment; and a good rattling gallop would have been of real
service to me--

Then, prithee, get on--get
on, my good lad, said I.

The postillion pointed
to the hill--I then tried to return back to the story of
the poor German and his ass-- but I had broke the clue--and
could get no
more into it again, than the postillion could into a trot.

The duce go, said I,
with it all! Here am I sitting as candidly disposed to make the best of
the worst, as ever wight was, and all runs counter.

There is one sweet
lenitive at least for evils, which Nature holds out to us: so I took it
kindly at her hands, and fell asleep; and the first word which roused
me was 'Amiens.'

--Bless me! said I,
rubbing my eyes--this is the very town where my poor lady
is to come.

Amiens

The words were scarce out
of my mouth, when the count de L***'s post-
chaise, with his sister in it, drove hastily by: she had just time to
make me a bow of recognition--and of that particular kind
of it, which told me she had not yet done with me. She was as good as
her look; for, before I had quite finished my supper, her brother's
servant came into the room with a billet, in which she said she had
taken the liberty to charge me with a letter, which I was to present
myself to Madame R*** the first morning I had nothing to do at Paris.
There was only added, she was sorry, but from what penchant she
had not considered, that she still owed it me; and if my route should
ever lay through Brussels, and I had not by then forgot the name of
Madame de L***--that Madame de L*** would be glad to
discharge her obligation.

Then I will meet thee,
said I, fair spirit! at Brussels-- 'tis only returning
from Italy through Germany to
Holland, by the route of Flanders, home--'twill scarce be
ten posts out of my way; but were it ten thousand! with what a moral
delight will it crown my journey, in sharing the sickening incidents of
a tale of misery told to me by such a sufferer! to see her weep! and
though I cannot dry up the fountain of her tears, what an exquisite
sensation is there still left, in wiping them away from off the cheeks
of the first and fairest of women, as I'm sitting with my handkerchief
in my hand in silence the whole night beside her?

There was nothing wrong
in the sentiment; and yet I instantly reproached my heart with it in
the bitterest and most reprobate of expressions.

It had ever, as I told
the reader, been one of the singular blessings of my life, to be almost
every hour of it miserably in love with some one; and my last flame
happening to be blown out by a whiff of jealousy on the sudden turn of
a corner, I had lighted it up afresh at the pure taper of Eliza but
about three months before-- swearing as I did it, that it
should last me through the
whole journey--Why should I dissemble the matter? I had
sworn to her eternal fidelity--she had a right to my whole
heart--to divide my affections was to lessen them--
to expose them, was to risk them: where there is risk,
there may be loss:--and what wilt thou have, Yorick! to
answer a heart so full of trust and confidence--so good,
so gentle and unreproaching!

I will not go to
Brussels, replied I, interrupting myself-- but my
imagination went on--I recalled her
looks at that crisis of our separation, when neither of us had power to
say adieu! I look'd at the picture she had tied in a black riband about
my neck--and blush'd as I look'd at it--I
would have given the world to have kiss'd it--but was
ashamed--and shall this tender flower, said I, pressing it
between my hands--shall it be smitten to its very root--and
smitten, Yorick! by thee, who hast promised to shelter it in thy breast?

Eternal fountain of
happiness! said I, kneeling down upon the ground-- be thou
my witness--and every pure spirit which tastes it, be my
witness also, That I would not travel to Brussels, unless Eliza went
along with me, did the road lead me towards heaven.

In transports of this
kind, the heart in spite of the understanding, will always say too much.

Amiens--The
Letter

Fortune had not smiled upon
La Fleur; for he had been unsuccessful in his feats of chivalry--and
not one thing had offered to signalize his zeal for my service from the
time he had entered into it, which was almost four-and-twenty hours.
The poor soul burn'd with impatience; and the Count de L***'s servant
coming with the letter, being the first practicable occasion which
offered, La Fleur had laid hold of it; and in order to do honour to his
master, had taken him into a back parlour in the Auberge, and
treated him with a cup or two of the best wine in Picardy; and the
Count de L***'s servant, in return, and not to be behind-hand in
politeness with La Fleur, had taken him back with him to the Count's
hotel. La Fleur's prevenancy (for there was a passport in his
very looks) soon set every servant in the kitchen at ease with him; and
as a Frenchman, whatever be his talents, has no sort of prudery in
showing them, La Fleur, in less than five minutes, had pulled out his
fife, and leading off the dance himself with the first note, set the fille
de chambre, the mâtre d'hôtel, the cook, the scullion, and
all the household, dogs and cats, besides an old monkey, a-dancing: I
suppose there had never been a merrier kitchen since the flood.

Madame de L***, in
passing from her brother's apartments to her own, hearing so much
jollity below stairs, rung up her fille de chambre to ask about
it; and hearing it was the English gentleman's servant who had set the
whole house merry with his pipe, she ordered him up.

As the poor fellow could
not present himself empty, he had loaden'd himself in going up stairs
with a thousand compliments to Madame de L***, on the part of his master--added
a long apocrypha of enquiries after Madame de L--'s health--
told her, that Monsieur his master was au désespoir
for her re-establishment from the fatigues of her journey-- and,
to close all, that Monsieur had received the letter
which Madame had done him the honour--And he has done me
the honour, said Madame de L--, interrupting La Fleur, to
send me a billet in return.

Madame de L--
had said this with such a tone of reliance upon the fact, that La Fleur
had not power to disappoint her expectations--he trembled
for my honour--and possibly might not altogether be
unconcerned for his own, as a man capable of being attached to a master
who could be wanting en égards vis-à d'une femme! so that when
Madame de L--asked La Fleur if he had brought a letter--
O qu'oui, said La Fleur; so laying down his hat
upon the ground, and taking hold of the flap of his right-side pocket
with his right--then contrary-wise-- Diable!--then
sought every pocket,
pocket by pocket, round, not forgetting his fob--Peste!--Then
La Fleur emptied them upon the floor--pulled out a dirty
cravat--a handkerchief--a comb--a
whip-lash-- a night-cap--then gave a peep
into his hat-- Quelle étourderie! He had left the
letter upon
the table in the Auberge--he would run for it, and
be back with it in three minutes.

I had just finished my
supper when La Fleur came in to give me an account of his adventure: he
told the whole story simply as it was, and only added, that if Monsieur
had forgot (par hasard) to answer Madame's letter, the
arrangement gave him an opportunity to recover the faux pas and
if not, that things were only as they were.

Now I was not altogether
sure of my étiquette, whether I ought to have wrote or no; but
if I had--a devil himself could not have been angry: 'Twas
but the officious zeal of a well-
meaning creature for my honour; and however he might have mistook the
road, or embarrassed me in so doing--his heart was in no
fault--I was under no necessity to write-- and
what weighed more than all--he did not
look as if he had done amiss.

--'Tis all very well, La
Fleur, said I--'Twas sufficient. La Fleur flew out of the
room like lightning, and return'd with pen, ink, and paper, in his
hand; and coming up to the table, laid them close before me, with such
a delight in his countenance, that I could not help taking up the pen.

I begun and begun again;
and though I had nothing to say, and that nothing might have been
expressed in half a dozen lines, I made half a dozen different
beginnings, and could no way please myself.

In short, I was in no
mood to write.

La Fleur, stepp'd out
and brought a little water in a glass to dilute my ink--then
fetched sand and seal-wax--It was all one; I wrote, and
blotted, and tore off, and burnt, and wrote again--Le
diable l'emporte, said I half to myself--I cannot
write this self-same letter; throwing the pen down despairingly as I
said it.

As soon as I had cast
down the pen, La Fleur advanced with the most respectful carriage up to
the table, and making a thousand apologies for the liberty he was going
to take, told me he had a letter in his pocket wrote by a drummer in
his regiment to a corporal's wife, which he durst say, would suit the
occasion.

I had a mind to let the
poor fellow have his humour--Then prithee, said I, let me
see it.

La FLeur instantly
pulled out a little dirty pocket book cramm'd full of small letters and
billet-doux in a sad condition, and laying it upon the table, and then
untying the string which held them all together, run over them one by
one, till he came to the letter in question--La voilà,
said he, clapping his hands: so unfolding it first, he laid it before
me, and retired three steps from the table whilst I read it.

It was but changing the
Corporal into the Count--and saying nothing about mounting
the guard guard on Wednesday-- and the letter was neither
right or wrong--so
to gratify the poor fellow, who stood trembling, for my honour, his
own, and the honour of his letter--I took the cream gently
off it, and whipping it up in my own way--I seal'd it up
and sent him with it to Madame de L***--and the next
morning we pursued our journey to Paris.

Paris

When a man can carry the
point by din of equipage, and carry on all floundering before him with
half a dozen lackies and a couple of cooks--'tis very well
in such a place as Paris-- he may drive in at which end
of a street he will.

A poor prince who is
weak in cavalry, and whose whole infantry does not exceed a single man,
had best quit the field; and signalize himself in the cabinet, if he
can get up into it--I say up into it--for
there is no descending perpendicular amongst 'em with a 'Me voici,
mes enfans' here I am--whatever many may think.

I own my first
sensations, as soon as I was left solitary and alone in my own chamber
in the hotel, were far from being so flattering as I had prefigured
them. I walked up gravely to the window in my dusty black coat, and
looking through the glass saw all the world in yellow, blue, and green,
running at the ring of pleasure.--The old with broken
lances, and in helmets which had lost their vizards--the
young in armour bright which shone like gold, be-plumed with each gay
feather of the east-- all--all--tilting
at it like
fascinated knights in tournaments of yore for fame and love--

Alas, poor Yorick! cried
I, what art thou doing here? On the very first onset of all this
glittering clatter thou art reduced to an atom--seek--seek
some winding alley, with a tourniquet at the end of it, where chariot
never rolled or flambeau shot its rays--there thou mayest
solace thy soul in converse sweet with some kind grisset of a barber's
wife, and get into such coteries!--

--May I perish! if I do,
said I, pulling out a letter which I had to present to Madame de R***.--I'll
wait upon this lady, the very first thing I do. So I called La Fleur to
go seek me a barber directly--and come back and brush my
coat.

Paris--The
Wig

When the barber came, he
absolutely refused to have any thing to do with my wig: 'twas either
above or below his art: I had nothing to do, but to take one ready made
of his own recommendation.-- But I fear, friend! said I,
this buckle won't stand.-- You may immerge it, replied
he, into the ocean, and it
will stand--

What a great scale is
everything upon in this city! thought I-- The utmost
stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas
could have gone no further than to have 'dipped it into a pail of
water.'--What difference! 'tis like time to eternity.

I confess I do hate all
cold conceptions, as I do the puny ideas which engender them; and am
generally so struck with the great works of nature, that for my own
part, if I could help it, I never would make a comparison less than a
mountain at least. All that can be said against the French sublime in
this instance of it, is this--that the grandeur is more
in the word; and less in the thing. No doubt
the ocean fills the mind with vast ideas; but Paris being so far
inland, it was not likely I should run post a hundred miles out of it,
to try the experiment--the Parisian barber meant nothing.--

The pail of water
standing beside the great deep, makes certainly but a sorry figure in
speech--but 'twill be said-- it has one
advantage-- 'tis in the next
room, and the truth of the buckle may be tried in it without more ado,
in a single moment.

In honest truth, and
upon a more candid revision of the matter, The French expression
professes more than it performs.

I think I can see the
precise and distinguishing marks of national characters more in these
nonsensical minutiæ, than in the most important matters of
state; where great men of all nations talk and stalk so much alike,
that I would not give ninepence to chuse among them.

I was so long in getting
from under my barber's hands, that it was too late to think of going
with my letter to Madame R*** that night: but when a man is once
dressed at all points for going out, his reflections turn to little
account, so taking down the name of the Hôtel de Modene, where I
lodged, I walked forth without any determination where to go--I
shall consider of that, said I, as I walk along.

Paris--The
Pulse

Hail ye small sweet
courtesies of life, for smooth do ye make the road of it! like grace
and beauty which beget inclinations to love at first sight: 'tis ye who
open this door and let the stranger in.

--Pray, Madame, said I,
have the goodness to tell me which way I must turn to go to the Opéra-comique:--Most
willingly, Monsieur, said she, laying aside her work--

I had given a cast with
my eye into half a dozen shops as I came along in search of a face not
likely to be disordered by such an interruption; till at last, this
hitting my fancy, I had walked in.

She was working a pair
of ruffles as she sat in a low chair on the far side of the shop facing
the door--

--Très voluntiers;
most willingly, said she, laying her work down upon a chair next her,
and rising up form the low chair she was sitting in, with so cheerful a
movement and so cheerful a look, that had I been laying out fifty louis
d'ors with her, I should have said--'This woman is
grateful.'

You must turn, Monsieur,
said she, going with me to the door of the shop, and pointing the way
down the street I was to take-- you must turn first to
your left hand--mais
prenez garde--there are two turns; and be so good as
to take the second--then go down a little way and you'll
see a church, and when you are past it, give yourself the trouble to
turn directly to the right, and that will lead you to the foot of the Pont-Neuf,
which you must cross--and there any one will do himself
the pleasure to shew you--

She repeated her
instructions three times over to me, with the same good-natur'd
patience the third time as the first;--and if tones
and manners have a meaning, which certainly they have, unless to
hearts which shut them out--she seemed really interested,
that I should not lose myself.

I will not suppose it
was the woman's beauty, notwithstanding she was the handsomest Grisset,
I think, I ever saw, which had much to do with the sense I had of her
courtesy; only I remember, when I told her how much I was obliged to
her, that I looked very full in her eyes,-
-and that I repeated my thanks as often as she had done her
instructions.

I had not got ten paces
from the door, before I found I had forgot every tittle of what she had
said--so looking back, and seeing her still standing in
the door of the shop as if to look whether I went right or not--I
returned back, to ask her whether the first turn was to my right or left--for
that I had absolutely forgot.--Is it possible? said she,
half laughing.--'Tis very possible, replied I, when a man
is thinking more of a woman, than of her good advice.

As this was the real
truth--she took it, as every woman takes a matter of
right, with a slight courtesy.

--Attendez, said
she, laying her hand upon my arm to detain me, whilst she called a lad
out of the back-shop to get ready a parcel of gloves. I am just going
to send him, said she, with a packet into that quarter, and if you will
have the complaisance to step in, it will be ready in a moment, and he
shall attend you to the place.-- So I walk'd in with her
to the far side of the shop, and
taking up the ruffle in my hand which she laid upon the chair, as if I
had a mind to sit, she sat down herself in her low chair, and I
instantly sat myself down beside her.

--He will be ready,
Monsieur, said she, in a moment--And in that moment,
replied I, most willingly would I say something very civil to you for
all these courtesies. Any one may do a casual act of good-nature, but a
continuation of them shews it is a part of the temperature; and
certainly, added I, if it is the same blood which comes from the heart,
which descends to the extremes (touching her wrist), I am sure you must
have one of the best pulses of any woman in the world--Feel
it, said she, holding out her arm. So laying down my hat, I took hold
of her fingers in one hand, and applied the two fore-fingers of my
other to the artery--

--Would to heaven! my
dear Eugenius, thou hadst passed by, and beheld me sitting in my black
coat, and in my lack-a-day-sical manner, counting the throbs of it, one
by one, with as much true devotion as if I had been watching the
critical ebb or flow of her fever-- How wouldst thou have
laugh'd and moralized upon my new
profession!--and thou shouldst have laugh'd and moralized
on--Trust me, my dear Eugenius, I should have said, 'there
are worse occupations in this world than feeling a woman's pulse.'--But
a Grisset's! thou wouldst have said--and in an open shop! Yorick--

--So much
the better: for when my views are direct, Eugenius, I care not if all
the world saw me feel it.

Paris--The
Husband

I had counted twenty
pulsations, and was going on fast towards the fortieth, when her
husband coming unexpected from a back parlour into the shop, put me a
little out of my reckoning.--'Twas nobody but her husband,
she said--so I began a fresh score--Monsieur
is so good, quoth she, as he pass'd by us, as to give himself the
trouble of feeling my pulse-- The husband took off his
hat, and making me a bow, said,
I did him too much honour--and having said that, he put on
his hat and walk'd out.

Good God! said I to
myself, as he went out--and can this man be the husband of
this woman!

Let it not torment the
few who know what must have been the grounds of this exclamation, if I
explain it to those who do not. In London a shopkeeper and a
shopkeeper's wife seem to be one bone and one flesh: in the several
endowments of mind and body, sometimes the one, sometimes the other has
it, so as in general to be upon a par, and to tally with each other as
nearly as a man and wife need to do.

In Paris, there are
scarce two orders of beings more different: for the legislative and
executive powers of the shop not resting in the husband, he seldom
comes there--in some dark and dismal room behind, he sits
commerceless in his thrum night-cap, the same rough son of Nature that
Nature left him.

The genius of a people
where nothing but the monarchy is salique, having ceded this
department, with sundry others, totally to the women--by a
continual higgling with customers from morning to night, like so many
rough pebbles shook long enough together in a bag, by amicable
collisions, they have worn down their asperities and sharp angles, and
not only become round and smooth, but will receive, some of them, a
polish like a brilliant-- Monsieur le Mari is
little better than the stone
under your foot--

--Surely--surely,
man! it is not good for thee to sit alone--thou wast made
for social intercourse and gentle greetings, and this improvement of
our natures from it, I appeal to, as my evidence.--And how
does it beat, Monsieur? said she.--With all the benignity,
said I, looking quietly in her eyes, that I expected--She
was going to say something civil in return--but the lad
came into the shop with the gloves--A propos, said
I, I want a couple of pair myself.

Paris--The
Gloves

The beautiful Grisset rose
up when I said this, and going behind the counter, reach'd down a
parcel and untied it: I advanced to the side over-against her: they
were all too large. The beautiful Grisset measured them one by one
across my hand--It would not alter the dimensions--She
begg'd I would try a single pair, which seemed to be the least--She
held it open--my hand slipped into it at once--It
will not do, said I, shaking my head a little--No, said
she, doing the same thing.

There are certain
combined looks of simple subtlety-- where whim, and
sense, and seriousness, and nonsense,
are so blended, that all the languages of Babel set loose together
could not express them--they are communicated and caught
so instantaneously, that you can scarce say which party is the
infector. I leave it to you men of words to swell pages about it--
it is enough in the present to say again, the gloves
would not do; so folding our hands within our arms, we both loll'd upon
the counter--it was narrow, and there was just room for
the parcel to lay between us.

The beautiful Grisset
look'd sometimes at the gloves, then side-ways to the window, then at
the gloves--and then at me. I was not disposed to break
silence--I follow'd her example: so I looked at the
gloves, then to the window, then at the gloves, and then at her--and
so on alternately.

I found I lost
considerably in every attack--she had a quick black eye,
and shot through two such long and silken eye-lashes with such
penetration, that she look'd into my very heart and reins--It
may seem strange, but I could actually feel she did--

It is no matter, said I,
taking up a couple of the pairs next me, and putting them into my
pocket.

I was sensible the
beautiful Grisset had not ask'd above a single livre above the price--I
wish'd she had ask'd a livre more, and was puzzling my brains how to
bring the matter about-- Do you think, my dear Sir, said
she, mistaking my
embarrassment, that I could ask a sous too much of a stranger-- and
of a stranger whose politeness more than his want of
gloves, has done me the honour to lay himself at my mercy?-- M'en
croyez capable?--Faith, not I,
said I: and if you were, you are welcome--So counting the
money into her hand, and with a lower bow than one generally makes to a
shopkeeper's wife, I went out, and her lad with his parcel followed me.

Paris--The
Translation

There was nobody in the box
I was let into but a kindly old French officer. I love the character,
not only because I honour the man whose manners are softened by a
profession which makes bad men worse; but that I once knew one--for
he is no more--and why should I not rescue one page from
violation by writing his name in it, and telling the world it was
Captain Tobias Shandy, the dearest of my flock and friends, whose
philanthropy I never think of at this long distance from his death--but
my eyes gush out with tears. For his sake, I have a predilection for
the whole corps of veterans; and so I strode over the two back rows of
benches, and placed myself beside him.

The old officer was
reading attentively a small pamphlet, it might be the book of the
opera, with a large pair of spectacles. As soon as I lay down, he took
his spectacles off, and putting them into a shagreen case, return'd
them and the book into his pocket together. I half rose up, and made
him a bow.

Translate this into any
civilized language in the world-- the sense is this:

'Here's a poor stranger
come into the box--he seems as if he knew nobody; and is
never likely, was he to be seven years in Paris, if every man he comes
near keeps his spectacles upon his nose--'tis shutting the
door of conversation absolutely in his face--and using him
worse than a German.'

The French officer might
as well have said it all aloud: and if he had, I should in course have
put the bow I made him into French too, and told him, 'I was sensible
of his attention, and return'd him a thousand thanks for it.'

There is not a secret so
aiding to the progress of sociality, as to get master of this short
hand, and be quick in rendering the several turns of looks and
limbs, with all their inflections and delineations, into plain words.
For my own part, by long habitude, I do it so mechanically, that when I
walk the streets of London, I go translating all the way; and have more
than once stood behind in the circle, where not three words have been
said, and brought off twenty different dialogues with me, which I could
have fairly wrote down and sworn to.

I was going one evening
to Martini's concert at Milan, and was just entering the door of the
hall, when the Marquisina di F*** was coming out in a sort of a
hurry--she was almost upon me before I saw her; so I gave a spring to
one side to let her pass--She had done the same, and on
the same side too: so we ran our heads together; she instantly got to
the other side to get out: I was just as unfortunate as she had bee;
for I had sprung to that side, and opposed her passage again--We
both flew together to the other side, and then back--and
so on--It was ridiculous; we both blush'd intolerably; so
I did at last the thing I should have done at first--I
stood stock still, and the Marquisina had no more difficulty. I had no
power to go into the room, till I had made her so much reparation as to
wait and follow her with my eye to the end of the passage--She
look'd back twice, and walk'd along it rather sideways, as if she would
make room for any one coming up stairs to pass her--No,
said I--that's a vile translation: the Marquisina has a
right to the best apology I can make her; and that opening is left for
me to do it in--so I ran and begg'd pardon for the
embarrassment I had given her, saying it was my intention to have made
her way. She answered, she was guided by the same intention towards me--so
we reciprocally thank'd each other. She was at the top of the stairs;
and seeing no chichesbee near her, I begg'd to hand her to her coach--
So we went down the stairs, stopping at every third step
to talk of the concert and the adventure--Upon my word,
Madame, said I, when I had handed her in, I made six different efforts
to let you go out--And I made six different efforts,
replied she, to let you enter-- I wish to heaven you would
make the seventh, said I--With all my heart, said she,
making room--Life is too short to be long about the forms
of it--so I instantly stepp'd in, and she carried me home
with her--And what became of the concert, St Cecilia, who,
I suppose, was at it, knows more than I.

I will only add, that
the connection which arose out of the translation, gave me more
pleasure than any one I had the honour to make in Italy.

Paris--The
Dwarf

I had never heard the
remark made by any one in my life, except by one; and who that was will
probably come out in this chapter: so that being pretty much
unprepossessed, there must have been grounds for what struck me the
moment I cast my eyes over the parterre--and that
was, the unaccountable sport of nature in forming such numbers of dwarfs--No
doubt she sports at certain times in almost every corner of the world;
but in Paris, there is no end to her amusements--The
goddess seems almost as merry as she is wise.

As I carried my idea out
of the Opéra-comique with me, I measured every body I saw
walking in the streets by it-- Melancholy application!
especially where the size was
extremely little--the face extremely dark--the
eyes quick--the nose long--the teeth white-
-the jaw prominent--to see so many miserables, by
force of accidents driven out of their own proper class into the very
verge of another, which if it gives me pain to write down-- every
third man a pigmy!--some by ricketty
heads and hump backs--others by bandy legs--a
third set arrested by the hand of Nature in the sixth and seventh years
of their growth--a fourth, in their perfect and natural
state, like dwarf apple-trees; from the first rudiments and stamina of
their existence, never meant to grow higher.

A medical traveller
might say, 'tis owing to undue bandages-- a splenetic
one, to want of air--and an inquisitive
traveller, to fortify the system, may measure the height of their houses--
the narrowness of their streets, and in how few feet
square in the sixth and seventh stories such numbers of the Bourgeoisie
eat and sleep together; but I remember, Mr. Shandy, the elder, who
accounted for nothing like any body else, in speaking of these matters,
averred that children, like other animals, might be increased to any
size, provided they came right into the world; but the misery was, the
citizens of Paris were so coop'd up, that they had not actually room
enough to get them--I did not call it getting anything,
said he--'tis getting nothing-- Nay,
continued he, rising in his argument, 'tis getting
worse than nothing, when all you have got, after twenty of five-and
twenty years of the tenderest care and most nutritious ailment bestowed
upon it, shall not at last be as high as my leg. Now, Mr. Shandy being
very short, there could nothing more be said of it.

As this is not a work of
reasoning, I leave the solution as I found it, and content myself with
the truth only of the remark, which is verified in every lane and
by-lane of Paris. I was walking down that which leads from the Carousal
to the Palais Royal, and observing a little boy in some distress at the
side of the gutter, which ran down the middle of it, I took hold of his
hand, and help'd him over. Upon turning up his face to look at him
after, I perceived he was about forty--Never mind, said I;
some good body will do as much for me, when I am ninety.

I feel some little
principles within me, which incline me to be merciful towards this poor
blighted part of my species, who have neither size nor strength to get
on in the world.--I cannot bear to see one of them trod
upon; and had scarce got seated beside my old French officer, ere the
disgust was exercised, by seeing the very thing happen under the box we
sat in.

At the end of the
orchestra, and betwixt that and the first side-box, there is a small
esplanade left, where, when the house is full, numbers of all ranks
take sanctuary. Though you stand, as in the parterre, you pay
the same price as in the orchestra. A poor defenceless being of this
order had got thrust somehow or other into this luckless place--the
night was hot, and he was surrounded by beings two feet and a half
higher than himself. The dwarf suffered inexpressibly on all sides; but
the thing which incommoded him most, was a tall corpulent German, near
seven feet high, who stood directly betwixt him and all possibility of
his seeing either the stage or the actors. The poor dwarf did all he
could to get a peep at what was going forwards by seeking for some
little opening betwixt the German's arm and his body, trying first one
side, then the other; but the German stood square in the most
unaccommodating posture that can be imagined--the dwarf
might as well have been placed a the bottom of the deepest draw-well in
Paris; so he civilly reach'd up his hand to the German's sleeve, and
told him his distress--The German turn'd his head back,
look'd down upon him as Goliath did upon David--and
unfeelingly resumed his posture.

I was just then taking a
pinch of snuff out of my monk's little horn box--And how
would thy meek and courteous spirit, my dear monk! so temper'd to bear
and forbear!--how sweetly would it have lent an ear to
this poor soul's complaint!

The old French officer,
seeing me lift up my eyes with an emotion, as I made the apostrophe,
took the liberty to ask me what was the matter--I told him
the story in three words, and added how inhuman it was.

By this time the dwarf
was driven to extremes, and in his first transports, which are
generally unreasonable, had told the German he would cut off his long
queue with his knife.--The German look'd back coolly, and
told him he was welcome, if he could reach it.

An injury sharpen'd by
an insult, be it to whom it will, makes every man of sentiment a party:
I could have leap'd out of the box to have redressed it--The
old French officer did it with much less confusion; for leaning a
little over, and nodding to a centinel, and pointing at the same time
with his finger at the distress-- the centinel made his
way to it.--There was
no occasion to tell the grievance--the thing told itself;
so thrusting back the German instantly with his musket--
he took the poor dwarf by the hand, and placed him before him-- This
is noble! said I, clapping my hands together-- And yet
you would not permit this, said the old officer,
in England.

--In England, dear Sir,
said I, we sit all at our ease.

The old French officer
would have set me at unity with myself, in case I had been at variance,--by
say it was a bon mot--and as a bon mot is
always worth something at Paris, he offered me a pinch of snuff.

Paris--The
Rose

It was now my turn to ask
the old French officer, 'what was the matter?' for a cry of 'Haussez
les mains, Monsieur l'Abbé,' re-echoed from a dozen different parts
of the parterre, was as unintelligible to me, as my apostrophe to the
monk had been to him.

He told me, it was some
poor Abbé in one of the upper loges, who he supposed had got
planted perdu behind a couple of grissets, in order to see the
opera, and that the parterre espying him, were insisting upon
his holding up both his hands during the representation.--And
can it be supposed, said I, that an ecclesiastic would pick the
grissets' pockets? The old French officer smiled, and whispering in my
ear, opened a door of knowledge which I had no idea of.

Good God! said I,
turning pale with astonishment--is it possible, that a
people so smit with sentiment should at the same time be so unclean and
so unlike themselves--Quelle grossièreté! added I.

The French officer told
me it was an illiberal sarcasm at the church, which had begun in the
theatre about the time the Tartuffe was given in it, by Molière--but,
like other remains of Gothic manners, was declining--Every
nation, continued he, have their refinements and grossièretés
in which they take the lead, and lose it of one another by turns--
that he had been in most countries, but never in one
where he found not some delicacies, which others seemed to want. Le
POURet le CONTREse
trouvent en chaque nation; there is a balance, said he, of good and
bad every where; and nothing but the knowing it is so, can emancipate
one half of the world from the prepossession which it holds against the
other--that the advantage of travel, as it regarded the savoir
vivre, was by seeing a great deal both of men and manners; it
taught us mutual toleration; and mutual toleration, concluded he,
making me a bow, taught us mutual love.

The old French officer
delivered this with an air of such candour and good sense, as coincided
with my first favourable impressions of his character--I
thought I loved the man; but I fear I mistook the object--'twas
my own way of thinking-- the difference was, I could not
have expressed it half
so well.

It is alike troublesome
to both the rider and his beast-- if the latter goes
pricking up his ears, and starting
all the way at every object which he never saw before--I
have as little torment of this kind as any creature alive; and yet I
honestly confess, that many a thing gave me pain, and that I blush'd at
many a word the first month--which I found inconsequent
and perfectly innocent the second.

Madame de Rambouliet,
after an acquaintance of about six weeks with her, had done me the
honour to take me in her coach about two leagues out of town.--Of
all women, Madame de Rambouliet is the most correct; and I never wish
to see one of more virtues and purity of heart--in our
return back, Madame de Rambouiliet desired me to pull the cord--I
asked her if she wanted any thing--Rien que pisser,
said Madame de Rambouliet.

Grieve not, gentle
traveller, to let Madame de Rambouliet p-- ss on--
And, ye fair mystic nymphs! go each
one 'pluck your rose,' and scatter them in your path-- for
Madame de Ramboiliet did no more--I
handed Madame de Rambouliet out of the coach; and had I been the priest
of the chaste Castalai, I could not have served at her fountain
with a more respectful decorum.

Paris--The
Fille de Chambre

What the old French officer
had delivered upon travelling, bringing Polonius's advice to his son
upon the same subject into my head-
-and that bringing in Hamlet; and Hamlet the rest of
Shakespeare's works, I stopp'd at the Quai de Conti in my return home,
to purchase the whole set.

The bookseller said he
had not a set in the world-- Comment! said I;
taking up one out of a set which
lay upon the counter betwixt us--He said, they were sent
him only to be got bound, and were to be sent back to Versailles in the
morning to the Count de B****.

--And does the Count de
B****, said I, read Shakespeare? C'est un Esprit fort, replied
the bookseller.--He loves English books; and what is more
to his honour, he loves the English too. You speak this so civilly,
said I, that it is enough to oblige an Englishman to lay out a Lois
d'or or two at your shop-- The bookseller made a bow, and
was going to say
something, when a young decent girl about twenty, who by her air and
dress seemed to be fille de chambre to some devout woman of
fashion, come into the shop and asked for Les Égarements du Coeur
& de l'Esprit: the bookseller gave her the book directly; she
pulled out a little green sattin purse run round with ribband of the
same colour, and putting her finger and thumb into it, she took out the
money and paid for it. As I had nothing more to stay me in the shop, we
both walk'd out of the door together.

--And what have you to
do, my dear, said I, with The Wanderings of the Heart, who
scarce yet know you have one; nor, till love has told you it, or some
faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst thou ever be sure it is so.--Le
Dieu m'en garde! said the girl.-- With reason, said I--for
if it is a good one, 'tis pity it should be stolen; 'tis a little
treasure to thee, and gives a better air to your face, than if it was
dress'd out with pearls.

The young girl listened
with a submissive attention, holding her sattin purse by its ribband in
her hand all the time-- 'Tis a very small one. said I,
taking hold of the bottom
of it--she held it towards me--and there is
very little in it, my dear, said I; but be as good as thou art
handsome, and heaven will fill it: I had a parcel of crowns in my hand
to pay for Shakespeare; and as she had let go the purse entirely, I put
a single one in; and tying up the ribband in a bow-knot, returned it to
her.

The young girl made me
more a humble courtesy than a low one-- 'twas one of
those quiet, thankful sinkings, where the
spirit bows itself down--the body does no more than tell
it. I never gave a girl a crown in my life which gave me half the
pleasure.

My advice, my dear,
would not have been worth a pin to you, said I, if I had not given this
along with it: but now, when you see the crown, you'll remember it--so
don't my dear, lay it out in ribbands.

Upon my word, Sir, said
the girl, earnestly, I am incapable-- in saying which, as
is usual in little bargains of
honour, she gave me her hand--En vérité, Monsieur, je
mettrai cet argent à part, said she.

When a virtuous
convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their most
private walks: so not withstanding it was dusky, yet as both our roads
lay the same way, we made no scruple of walking along the Quai de Conti
together.

She made me a second
courtesy in setting off, and before we got twenty yards from the door,
as if she had not done enough before, she made a sort of a little stop
to tell me again--she thank'd me.

It was a small tribute,
I told her, which I could not avoid paying to virtue, and would not be
mistaken I had been rendering it to for the world--but I
see innocence, my dear, in your face-- and foul befal the
man who ever lays a snare in its way!

The girl seem'd affected
some way or other with what I said-- she gave a low sigh--I
found I was not
impowered to inquire at all after it--so said nothing more
till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nevers, where we were to part.

--But is
this the way, my dear, said I, to the Hôtel de Modene? she told me it
was--or, that I might go by the Rue de Gueneguault, which
was the next turn.-- Then I'll go, my dear, by the Rue de
Gueneguault, said
I, for two reasons; first I shall please myself, and next I shall give
you the protection of my company as far on your way as I can. The girl
was sensible I was civil--and said, she wish'd the Hôtel
de Modene was in the Rue de St. Pierre--You live there?
said I--She told me she was fille de chambre to
Madame R****-- Good God! said I, 'tis the very lady for
whom I have brought a letter from Amiens-- The girl told
me that Madame R****, she believed,
expected a stranger with a letter, and was impatient to see him--so
I desired the girl to present my compliments to Madame R****, and say I
would certainly wait upon her in the morning.

We stood still at the
corner of the Rue de Nevers whilst this pass'd-- We then
stopped a moment whilst she disposed of her Égarements du Coeur,
&c. more commodiously than carrying them in her hand--they
were two volumes; so I held the second for her whilst she put the first
into her pocket; and then she held her pocket, and I put the other in
after it.

'Tis sweet to feel by
what fine-spun threads our affections are drawn together.

We set off afresh, and
as she took her third step, the girl put her hand within my arm--I
was just bidding her-- but she did it of herself, with
that undeliberating
simplicity, which shew'd it was out of her head that she had never seen
me before. For my own part, I felt the conviction of consanguinity so
strongly, that I could not help turning half round to look in her face,
and see if I could not trace out anything in it of a family
likeness-Tut! said I, are we not all relations?

When we arrived at the
turning up of the Rue de Gueneguault, I stopp'd to bid her adieu for
good and all: the girl would thank me again for my company and kindness--She
bid me adieu twice-- I repeated it as often; and so
cordial was the parting
between us, that had it happened any where else, I'm not sure but I
should have signed it with a kiss of charity, as warm and holy as an
apostle.

But in Paris, as none
kiss each other but the men--I did, what amounted to the
same thing--

--I bid God bless her.

Paris--The
Passport

When I got home to my
hotel, La Fleur told me I had been enquired after by the Lieutenant de
Police--The duce take it! said I--I know the
reason. It is time the reader should know it, for in the order of
things in which it happened, it was omitted; not that it was out of my
head; but that, had I told it then, it might have been forgot now--and
now is the time I want it.

I had left London with
so much precipitation, that it never enter'd my mind that we were at
war with France; and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at
the hills beyond Boulogne, before the idea presented it self; and with
this in its train, there was no getting there without a passport. Go
but to the end of the street, I have a mortal aversion for returning
back no wiser than I set out; and as this was one of the greatest
efforts I had ever made for knowledge, I could less bear the thoughts
of it; so hearing the Count de **** had hired the packet, I begg'd he
would take me in his suite. The Count had some little knowledge
of me, so made little or no difficulty--only said, his
inclination to serve me could reach no farther than Calais, as he was
to return by way of Brussels to Paris; however, when once I had pass'd
there, I might get to Paris without interruption; but that in Paris I
must make friends and shift for myself--Let me get to
Paris, Monsieur le Count, said I--and I shall do very
well. So I embark'd, and never thought more of the matter.

When La Fleur told me
the Lieutenant de Police had been enquiring after me--the
thing instantly recurred--and by the time La Fleur had
well told me, the master of the hotel came into my room to tell me the
same thing, with this addition to it, that my passport had been
particularly asked after: the master of the hotel concluded with
saying, He hoped I had one--Not I, faith! said I.

The master of the hotel
retired three steps from me, as from an infected person, as I declared
this--and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me,
and with that sort of movement which a good soul makes to succour a
distress'd one--the fellow won my heart by it; and from
that single trait, I knew his character as perfectly, and could rely
upon it as firmly, as if he had served me with fidelity for seven years.

Mon siegneur!
cried the master of the hotel--but recollecting himself as
he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the tone of it--if
Monsieur, said he, has not a passport (apparemment) in all
likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one--Not
that I know of, quoth I, with an air of indifference.--Then,
certes, replied he, you'll be sent to the Bastile or the Châtelet, au
moins. Poo! said I, the king of France is a good-natur'd soul--
he'll hurt nobody.--Cela n'empêche pas, said he--
you will certainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow
morning.--But I've taken your lodgings for a month,
answered I, and I'll not quit them a day before the time for all the
kings of France in the world. La Fleur whispered in my ear, That nobody
could oppose the king of France.

Pardi! said my
host, ces Messieurs Anglois sont des gens trè extraordinaires--and
having both said and sworn it--he went out.

The
Hotel at Paris--The Passport

I could not find it in my
heart to torture La Fleur's with a serious look upon the subject of my
embarrassment, which was the reason I had treated it so cavalierly; and
to shew him how light it lay upon my mind, I dropt the subject
entirely; and whilst he waited upon me at supper, talk'd to him with
more than usual gaiety about Paris, and of the opéra-comique.--La
Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the street as
far as the bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out with the young fille
de chambre and that we walk'd down the Quai de Conti together, La
Fleur deem'd it unnecessary to follow me a step further-- so
making his own reflections upon it, he took a shorter
cut--and got to the hotel in time to be inform'd of the
affair of the police against my arrival.

As soon as the honest
creature had taken away, and gone down to sup himself, I then began to
think a little seriously about my situation.--

--And
here, I know, Eugenius, thou wilt smile at the remembrance of a short
dialogue which pass'd betwixt us the moment I was going to set out--I
must tell it here.

Eugenius, knowing that I
was as little subject to be overburthen'd with money as thought, had
drawn me aside to interrogate me hoe much I had taken care for; upon
telling him the exact sum, Eugenius shook his head, and said it would
not do; so pull'd out his purse in order to empty it into mine.--I've
enough in conscience, Eugenius, said I.-- Indeed, Yorick,
you have not, replied Eugenius--I know France and Italy
better than you-- But you don't consider, Eugenius, said
I, refusing his
offer, that before I have been three days in Paris, I shall take care
to say or do something or other for which I shall get clapp'd up into
the Bastile, and that I shall live there a couple of months entirely at
the king of France's expense. I beg pardon, said Eugenius, drily:
really I had forgot that resource.

Now the event I treated
gaily came seriously to my door.

Is it folly, or nonchalance,
or philosophy, or pertinacity--or what is it in me, that,
after all, when La Fleur had gone down stairs, and I was quite alone, I
could not bring down my mind to think of it otherwise than I had then
spoken of it to Eugenius?

--And as
for the Bastile; the terror is in the word--Make the most
of it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another word for a
tower--and a tower is but another word for a house you
can't get out of--Mercy on the gouty! for they are in it
twice a year--but with nine livres a day, and pen and ink
and paper and patience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well
within--at least for a month or six weeks; at the end of
which, if he is a harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he comes
out a better and wiser man than he went in.

I had some occasion (I
forgot what) to step into the courtyard, as I settled this account; and
remember I walk'd down stairs in no small triumph with the conceit of
my reasoning--Beshrew the sombre pencil! said I
vauntingly--for I envy not its power, which paints the
evils of life with so hard and deadly a colouring. The mind sits
terrified at the objects she has magnified herself, and blackened:
reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooks them--'Tis
true, said I, correcting the proposition--the Bastile is
not an evil to be despised--But strip it of towers--fill
up the fossé--unbarricade the doors-- call
it simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some
tyrant of a distemper--and not of a man which holds you in
it-- the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half
without
complaint.

I was interrupted in the
hey-day of this soliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of a child,
which complained 'it could not get out.'--I look'd up and
down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, or child, I went out
without further attention.

In my return back
through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and
looking up, I saw it was a starling hung in a little cage--'I
can't get out--I can't get out,' said the starling.

I stood looking at the
bird: and to every person who came through the passage it ran
fluttering to the side towards which they approach'd it, with the same
lamentation of its captivity--'I can't get out,' said the
starling--God help thee! said I-
-but I'll let out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage
to get to the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with
wire, there was no getting it to open without pulling the cage to pieces--I
took both hands to it.

The bird flew to the
place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head
through the trellis, pressed his breast against it, as if impatient--I
fear, poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee at liberty--'No,'
said the starling-- 'I can't get out--I
can't get out,' said
the starling.

I vow I never had my
affections more tenderly awakened; or do I remember an incident in my
life, where the dissipated spirits, to which my reason had been a
bubble, were so suddenly call'd home. Mechanical as the notes were, yet
so true in tune to nature were they chanted, that in one moment they
overthrew all my systematic reasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily
wak'd up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down them.

Disguise thyself as thou
wilt, Slavery! said I--still thou art a bitter draught!
and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou
art no less bitter on that account.-
-'Tis thou, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, addressing myself
to Liberty, whom all in public or in private worship, whose
taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change--no
tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle ao chymic power
to turn thy sceptre into iron-- with thee to smile upon
him as he eats his crust, the
swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled--
Gracious heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last
step but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Bestower of
it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion--and
shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence,
upon those heads which are aching for them.

Paris--The
Captive

The bird in his cage
pursued me into my room; I sat down close to my table, and leaning my
head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of
confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to
my imagination.

I was going to begin
with the millions of my fellow-creatures, born to no inheritance but
slavery: but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could
not bring it near me, and that the multitude of sad groups in it did
but distract me--

--I took a
single captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then
look'd through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.

I beheld his body half
wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind
of sickness of the heart it was which arises from hope deferr'd. Upon
looking nearer I saw him pale and feverish: in thirty years the western
breeze had not once fann'd his blood--he had seen no sun,
no moon, in all that time--nor had the voice of friend or
kinsman breathed through his lattice:--his children--

But here my heart began
to bleed--and I was forced to go on with another part of
the portrait.

He was sitting upon the
ground upon a little straw, in the furthest corner of his dungeon,
which was alternately his chair and bed: a little calendar of small
sticks were laid at the head, notch'd all over with the dismal days and
nights he had passed there-- he had one of these little
sticks in his hand, and with
a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap.
As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye
towards the door, then cast it down--shook his head, and
went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs,
as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle.-- He
gave a deep sigh--I saw the iron enter
into his soul--I burst into tears--I could not sustain the
picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn--I started
up from my chair, and called La Fleur, I bid him bespeak me a remise,
and have it ready at the door of the hotel by nine in the morning.

--I'll go
directly, said I, myself to Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul.

La Fleur would have put
me to bed; but not willing he should see any thing upon my cheek which
would cost the honest fellow a heart-
ache--I told him I would go to bed by myself-- and
bid him go do the same.

Road
to Versailles--The Starling

I got into my remise the
hour I promised: La Fleur got up behind, and I bid the coachman make
the best of his way to Versailles.

As there was nothing in
this road, or rather nothing which I look for in travelling, I cannot
fill up the blank better than with a short history of this self-same
bird, which became the subject of the last chapter.

Whilst the Honourable
Mr**** was waiting for a wind at Dover, it had been caught upon the
cliffs before it could well fly, by an English lad who was his groom;
who not caring to destroy it, had taken it in his breast into the packet--and
by course of feeding it, and taking it once under his protection, in a
day or two grew fond of it, and got it safely along with him to Paris.

At Paris the lad had
laid out a livre in a little cage for the starling, and as he had
little to do better the five months his master staid there, he taught
it in his mother's tongue the four simple words--(and no
more)--to which I own'd myself so much its debtor.

Upon his master's going
on for Italy--the lad had given it to the master of the
hotel--But his little song for liberty being in an unknown
language at Paris, the bird had little or no store set by him--so
La Fleur bought both him and his cage for me for a bottle of Burgundy.

In my return from Italy
I brought him with me to the country in whose language he had learn'd
his notes--and telling the story of him to Lord A--,
Lord A begg'd the bird of me-- in a week Lord A gave him
to Lord B--;Lord
B made a present of him to Lord C--; and Lord C's
gentleman sold him to Lord D's for a shilling--Lord D gave
him to Lord E--, and so on--half round the
alphabet--From that rank he pass'd into the lower house,
and pass'd the hands of as many commoners--But as all
these wanted to get in--and my bird wanted to get out--he
had almost as little store set by him in London as in Paris.

It is impossible but
many of my readers must have heard of him; and if any by mere chance
have ever seen him,--I beg leave to inform them, that bird
was my bird--or some vile copy set up to represent him.

I have nothing farther
to add upon him, but that, from that time to this, I have borne this
poor starling as the crest to my arms.-- Thus

--And let the herald's
officers twist his neck about if they dare.

Versailles--The
Address

I should not like to have
my enemy take a view of my mind when I am going to ask protection of
any man; but this going to Monsieur le Duc de C**** was an act of
compulsion--had it been an act of choice, I should have
done it, I suppose, lie other people.

How many mean plans of
dirty address, as I went along, did my servile heart form! I deserved
the Bastile for every one of them.

Then nothing would serve
me, when I got within sight of Versailles, but putting words and
sentences together, and conceiving attitudes and tones to wreath myself
into Monsieur le Duc du C****'s good graces-- This will
do, said I--Just as well, retorted I again, as a coat
carried up to him by an adventurous taylor, without taking his measure--Fool!
continued I,--see Monsieur le Duc"s face first-- observe
what character is written in it--take
notice in what posture he stands to hear you--mark the
turns and expressions of his body and limbs--and for the
tone--the first sound which comes from his lips will give
it you--and from all these together you'll compose an
address at once upon the spot, which cannot disgust the Duke-- the
ingredients are his own, and most likely to go down.

Well! said I, I wish it
well over--Coward again! as if man to man was not equal
throughout the whole surface of the globe; and if in the field--why
not face to face in the cabinet too? And trust me, Yorick, whenever it
is not so, man is false to himself, and betrays his own succours ten
times where nature does it once. Go to the Duc de C**** with the
Bastile in thy looks-- my life for it, thou wilt be sent
back to Paris in half
an hour with an escort.

I believe so, said I--Then
I'll go to the Duke, by heaven! with all the gaiety and debonairness in
the world.--

--And
there you are wrong again, replied I-- A heart at ease,
Yorick, flies into no extremes-- 'tis ever on its centre--Well!
well! cried
I, as the coachman turn'd in at the gates, I find I shall do very well:
and by the time he had wheel'd round the court, and brought me up to
the door, I found myself so much the better for my own lecture, that I
neither ascended the steps lie a victim to justice, who was to part
with life upon the topmost--nor did I mount them with a
skip and a couple of strides, as when I fly up, Eliza! to thee, to meet
it.

As I entered the door of
the saloon I was met by a person who might possibly be the maître
d'hôtel, but had more the air of one of the under-secretaries, who
told me the Duc du C**** was busy,--I am utterly ignorant,
said I, of the forms of obtaining an audience, being an absolute
stranger, and what is worse in the present conjuncture of affairs,
being an Englishman too.-
-He replied, that did not increase the difficulty.-- I
made him a slight bow, and told him, I had something
of importance to say to Monsieur le Duc. The secretary look'd towards
the stairs, as if he was about to leave me to carry up this account to
someone--But I must not mislead you, said I,-- for
what I have to say is of no manner of importance to
Monsieur le Duc de C****--but of great importance to
myself. C'est une autre affaire, replied he--Not
at all, said I, to a man of gallantry. But pray, good Sir, continued I,
when can a stranger hope to have accesse?--In not
less than two hours, said he, looking at his watch. The number of
equipages in the court-yard seemed to justify the calculation, that I
could have no nearer a prospect--and as walking backwards
and forwards in the saloon, without a soul to commune with, was for the
time being as bad as being in the Bastile itself, I instantly went back
to my remise, and bid the coachman to drive me to the Cordon Bleu,
which was the nearest hotel.

I think there is a
fatality in it--I seldom go to the place I set out for.

Versailles--Le
Pâtissier

Before I had got half way
down the street I changed my mind: as I am at Versailles, thought I, I
might as well take a view of the town; so I pull'd the cord, and
ordered the coachman to drive round some of the principal streets--I
suppose the town is not very large, said I.-- The coachman
begg'd pardon for setting me right, and told me it was very superb, and
that numbers of the first dukes and marquisses and counts had hotels--The
count de B****, of whom the bookseller at the Quai de Conti had spoke
so handsomely the night before, came instantly into my mind-- And
why should I not go, thought I, to the Count de
B****, who has so high an idea of English books, and English men--
and tell hi, my story? so I changed my mind a second time--In
truth it was the third; for I had intended that day for Madame de R****
in the Rue St Pierre, and had devoutly sent her word by her fille
de chambre that I would assuredly wait upon her--but I
am governed by circumstances-- I cannot govern them; so
seeing a man standing with a
basket on the other side of the street, as if he had something to sell,
I bid La Fleur go up to him and enquire for the Count's hotel.

La Fleur returned a
little pale: and told me it was a Chevalier de St Louis selling pâtés--It
is impossible, La Fleur, said I.--La Fleur could no more
account for the phenomenon than myself; but persisted in his story: he
had seen the croix set in gold, with its red ribband, he said, tied to
his buttonhole--and had looked into the basket and seen
the pâtés which the Chevalier was selling; so could not be
mistaken in that.

Such a reversal in man's
life awakens a better principle than curiosity: I could not help
looking for some time at him as I sat in the remise--the
more I look'd at him, his croix, and his basket, the stronger they wove
themselves into my brain-- I got out of the remise, and
went towards him.

He was begirt with a
clean linen apron which fell below his knees, and with a sort of bib
that went half way up his breast; upon the top of this, but a little
below the hem, hung his croix. His basket of little pâtés was
covered over with a white damask napkin; another of the same kind was
spread at the bottom; and there was a look of propreté and
neatness throughout, that one might have bought his pâtés of
him, as much from appetite as sentiment.

He made an offer of them
to neither; but stood still with them at the corner of a hotel, for
those to buy who chose it, without solicitation.

He was about forty-eight--of
a sedate look, something approaching to gravity. I did not wonder.--I
went up rather to the basket than him, and having lifted up the napkin,
and taken one of his pâtés into my hand-- I
begg'd he would explain the appearance which affected
me.

He told me in a few
words, that the best part of his life had pass'd in the service, in
which, after spending a small patrimony, he had obtain'd a company and
the croix with it; but that, at the conclusion of the last peace, his
regiment being reformed, and the whole corps, with those of some other
regiments, left without any provision, he found himself in a wide world
without friends, without a livre-- and indeed, said he,
without any thing but this-- (pointing, as he said it, to
his croix)--The
poor Chevalier won my pity, and he finished the scene with winning my
esteem too.

The king, he said, was
the most generous of princes, but his generosity could neither relieve
nor reward every one, and it was only his misfortune to be amongst the
number. He had a little wife, he said, whom he loved, who did the pâtisserie;
and added, he felt no dishonour in defending her and himself from want
in this way--unless Providence had offer'd him a better

It would be wicked to
withhold a pleasure from the good, in passing over what happen'd to
this poor Chevalier of St Louis about nine months after.

It seems he usually took
his stand near the iron gates which lead to the palace, and as his
croix had caught the eye of numbers, numbers had made the same inquiry
which I had done--He had told the same story, and always
with so much modesty and good sense, that it had reach'd at last the
king's ears--who hearing the Chevalier had been a gallant
officer, and respected by the whole regiment as a man of honour and
integrity--he broke up his little trade by a pension of
fifteen hundred livres a year.

As I have told this to
please the reader, I beg he will allow me to relate another, out of its
order, to please myself--the two stories reflect light
upon each other--and 'tis a pity they should be parted.

Rennes--The
Sword

When states and empires
have their periods of declension, and feel in their turns what distress
and poverty is--I stop not to tell the causes which
gradually brought the house d'E**** in Britanny into decay. The Marquis
d'E**** had fought up against his condition with great firmness;
wishing to preserve, and still shew to the world, some little fragments
of what his ancestors had been-- their indiscretions had
put it out of his power. There
was enough left for the little exigencies of obscurity--But
he had two boys who look'd up to him for light--he thought
they deserved it. He had tried his sword--it could not
open the way--the mounting was too expensive--and
simple economy was not a match for it--there was no
resource but commerce.

In any other province in
France, save Britanny, this was smiting the root for ever of the little
tree his pride and affection wish'd to see re-blossom--But
in Britanny, there being a provision for this, he avail'd himself of
it; and taking an occasion when the states were assembled at Rennes,
the Marquis, attended with his two boys, entered the court, and having
pleaded the right of an ancient law of the duchy, which, though seldom
claim'd, he said, was no less in force, he took the sword from his side--Here,
said he, take it; and be trusty guardians of it, till better times put
me in condition to reclaim it.

The president accepted
the Marquis's sword--he staid a few minutes to see it
deposited in the archives of his house, and departed.

The Marquis and his
whole family embarked the next day for Martinico, and in about nineteen
or twenty years of successful application to business, with some
unlook'd-for bequests from distant branches of his house, return'd home
to reclaim his nobility and to support it.

It was an incident of
good fortune which will never happen to any traveller, but a
sentimental one, that I should be at Rennes at the very time of this
solemn requisition: I call it solemn-- it was so to me.

The Marquis enter'd the
court with his whole family: he supported his lady--his
eldest son supported his sister, and his youngest was at the other
extreme of the line next his mother-- He put his
handkerchief to his face twice--

--There
was a dead silence. When the Marquis had approach'd within six paces of
the tribunal, he gave the Marchioness to his youngest son, and
advancing three steps before his family--he reclaim'd his
sword. His sword was given him, and the moment he got it into his hand
he drew it almost out of the scabbard--'twas the shining
face of a friend he had once given up--he look'd
attentively along it, beginning at the hilt, as if to see whether it
was the same--when observing a little rust which it had
contracted near the point, he brought it near his eye, and bending his
head down over it-- I think I saw a tear fall upon the
place: I could not be
deceived by what followed.

'I shall find,' said he,
'some other way to get it off.'

When the Marquis had
said this, he return'd his sword into its scabbard, made a bow to the
guardians of it--and with his wife and daughter, and his
two sons following him, walk'd out.

O how I envied him his
feelings!

Versailles--The
Passport

I found no difficulty in
getting admittance to Monsieur le Count de B****. The set of
Shakespeares was laid upon the table, and he was tumbling them over. I
walk'd up close to the table, and giving first such a look at the books
as to make him conceive I knew what they were--I told him,
I had come without any one to present me, knowing I should meet with a
friend in his apartment, who, I trusted, would do it for me--it
is my countryman the great Shakespeare, said I, pointing to his works--et
ayez la bonté, mon cher ami, apostrophizing his spirit, added I, de
me faire cet honneur-l&agrave.--

The Count smiled at the
singularity of the introduction; and seeing I look'd a little pale and
sickly, insisted upon my taking an arm-chair: so I sat down; and to
save him conjectures upon a visit so out of all rule, I told him simply
of the incident in the bookseller's shop, and how that had impelled me
rather to go to him with the story of a little embarrassment I was
under, than to any other man in France--And what is your
embarrassment? let me hear it, said the Count. So I told him the story
just as I have told it the reader.--

--And the
master of my hotel, said I, as I concluded it, will needs have it,
Monsieur le Count, that I should be sent to the Bastile--but
I have no apprehensions, continued I-- for in falling
into the hands of the most polish'd
people in the world, and being conscious I was a true man, and not come
to spy the nakedness of the land, I scarce thought I laid at their
mercy.--It does not suit the gallantry of the French,
Monsieur le Count, said I, to shew it against invalids.

An animated blush came
into the Count de B****'s cheeks as I spoke this--Ne
craignez rien--Don't fear, said he--Indeed
I don't, replied I again-- Besides, continued I a little
sportingly, I have come
laughing all the way from London to Paris, and I do not think Monsieur
le Duc de Choiseul is such an enemy to mirth, as to send me back crying
for my pains.

--My
application to you, Monsieur le Count de B**** (making him a low bow)
is to desire he will not.

The Count heard me with
great good-nature, or I had not said half as much--and
once or twice said--C'est bien dit. So I rested my
cause there--and determined to say no more about it.

The Count led the
discourse: we talk'd of indifferent things-- of books,
and politics, and men--and then
of women--God bless them all! said I, after much discourse
about them--there is not a man upon earth who loves them
as much as I do: after all the foibles I have seen, and all the satires
I have read against them, still I love them; being firmly persuaded
that a man, who has not a sort of an affection for the whole sex, is
incapable of ever loving a single one as he ought.

Heh bien! Monsieur
l'Anglois, said the Count, gaily-- You are not come
to spy the nakedness of the land-- I believe--ni
encore, I dare say that
of our women--But permit me to conjecture--if,
par hasard, they fell into your way, that the prospect
would not affect you.

I have something within
me which cannot bear the shock of the least indecent insinuation: in
the sportability of chit-chat I have often endeavoured to conquer it,
and with infinite pain have hazarded a thousand things to a dozen of
the sex together--the least of which I could not venture
to a single one to gain heaven.

Excuse me, Monsieur le
Count, said I--as for the nakedness of your land, if I saw
it, I should cast my eyes over it with tears in them-- And
for that of your women (blushing at the idea he had excited in me), I
am so evangelical in this, and have such a fellow-feeling for whatever
is weak about them, that I would cover it with a garment, if I
knew how to throw it on--But I could wish, continued I, to
spy the nakedness of their hearts, and through the different
disguises of customs, climates, and religion, find out what is good in
them to fashion my own by--and therefore am I come.

It is for this reason,
Monsieur le Count, continued I, that i have not seen the Palais Royal--nor
the Luxembourg-- nor the Façade of the Louvre--nor
have
attempted to sell the catalogues we have of pictures, statues, and
churches--I conceive every fair being as a temple, and
would rather enter in, and see the original drawings, and loose
sketches hung up in it, than the transfiguration of Raphael itself.

The thirst of this,
continued I, as impatient as that which inflames the breast of the
connoisseur, has led me from my own home into France--and
from France will lead me through Italy-
-'tis a quiet journey of the heart in pursuit of Nature, and
those affections which arise out of her, which make us love each other--and
the world, better than we do.

The Count said a great
many civil things to me upon the occasion; and added, very politely,
how much he stood obliged to Shakespeare for making me known to him--But,
à-propos, said he,-- Shakespeare is full of
great things-- he forgot a small punctilio of announcing
your name-- it puts you under a necessity of doing it
yourself.

Versailles--The
Passport

There is not a more
perplexing affair in life to me, than to set about telling any one who
I am--for there is scarce anybody I cannot give a better
account of than myself; and I have often wish'd I could do it in a
single word--and have an end of it. It was the only time
and occasion in my life I could accomplish this to any purpose--for
Shakespeare lying upon the table, and recollection I was in his books,
I took up Hamlet, and turning immediately to the grave-diggers' scene
in the fifth act, I laid my finger upon YORICK, and advancing the book
to the Count, with my finger all the way over the name--Me!
voici! said I.

Now whether the idea of
poor Yorick's skull was put out of the Count's mind by the reality of
my own, or by what magic he could drop a period of seven or eight
hundred years, makes nothing in this account-- 'tis
certain the French conceive better than they combine--I
wonder at nothing in tis world, and the less at this; inasmuch as one
of the first of our own church, for whose candour and paternal
sentiments I have the highest veneration, fell into the same mistake in
the very same case,--'He could not bear,' he said, 'to
look into the sermons wrote by the king of Denmark's jester.'--Good
my lord! said I; but there are two Yoricks. The Yorick your lordship
thinks of has been dead and buried eight hundred years ago; he
flourish'd in Horwendillus's court--the other Yorick is
myself, who have flourish'd, my lord, in no court--He
shook his head-- Good God! said I, you might as well
confound Alexander
the Great with Alexander the Coppersmith, my lord--'Twas
all one, he replied.

--If
Alexander king of Macedon could have translated your lordship, said I,
I'm sure your lordship would not have said so.

The Count instantly put
the Shakespeare into his pocket, and left me alone in his room.

Versailles--The
Passport

I could not conceive why
the Count de B**** had gone so abruptly out of the room, any more than
I could conceive why he had put the Shakespeare into his pocket--Mysteries
which must explain themselves are not worth the loss of time which a
conjecture about them takes up: 'twas better to read Shakespeare;
so taking up Much ado about Nothing, I transported myself
instantly from the chair I sat in to Messina in Sicily, and got so busy
with Don Pedro and Benedict and Beatrice, that I thought not of
Versailles, the Count, or the Passport.

Sweet pliability of
man's spirit, that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which
cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments!--Long--long
since had ye number'd out my days, had I not trod so great a part of
them upon this enchanted ground; when my way is too rough for my feet,
or too steep for my strength, I get off it, to some smooth velvet path
which fancy has scattered over with rose-buds of delights; and having
taken a few turns in it, come back strengthen'd and refresh'd--When
evils press sore upon me, and there is no retreat from them in this
world, then I take a new course--I leave it-- and
as I have a clearer idea of the elysian fields than
I have of heaven, I force myself, like Æneas, into them--I
see him meet the pensive shade of his forsaken Dido, and wish to
recognize it--I see the injured spirit wave her head, and
turn off silent from the author of her miseries and dishonours-- I
lose the feelings for myself in her's, and in those
affections which were wont to make me mourn for her when I was at
school.

Surely this is not
walking in a vain shadow--Nor does man disquiet himself in
vain by it--he oftener does so in trusting the
issue of his commotions to reason only-- I can safely say
for myself, I was never able to conquer
any one single bad sensation in my heart so decisively, as by beating
up as fast as I could for some kindly and gentle sensation to fight
upon its own ground.

When I had got to the
end of the third act, the Count de B**** entered with my passport in
his hand. Mons. le Duc de C****, said the Count, is as good a prophet,
I dare say, as he is a statesman-- Un homme qui rit,
said the duke, ne sera
jamais dangereux.Had it been for any one but the king's jester,
added the Count, I could not have got it these two hours.-- Pardonnez-moi,
Mon. le Count, said I--I
am not the king's jester.--But you are Yorick?-- Yes.--Et
vous plaisantez?--I
answered, Indeed I did jest--but was not paid for it--'twas
entirely at my own expence.

We have no jester at
court, Mons. le Count, said I; the last we had was in the licentious
reign of Charles II.--since which time our manners have
been so gradually refining, that our court at present is so full of
patriots, who wish for nothing but the honours and wealth of
their country--and our ladies are all so chaste, so
spotless, so good, so devout--there is nothing for a
jester to make a jest of--

Voilà un persiflage!
cried the Count.

Versailles--The
Passport

As the Passport was
directed to all lieutenant-governors, governors, and commandants of
cities generals, of armies, justiciaries, and all the officers of
justice, to let Mr. Yorick, the king's jester, and his baggage, travel
quietly along--I own the triumph of obtaining the Passport
was not a little tarnish'd by the figure I cut in it--But
there is nothing unmix'd in this world; and some of the gravest of our
divines have carried it so far as to affirm, that enjoyment itself was
attended even with a sigh-- and that the greatest they
knew of terminated in
a general way in little better than a convulsion.

I remember the grave and
learned Bevoriskius, in his Commentary upon the Generations from Adam,
very naturally breaks off in the middle of a note to give an account to
the world of a couple of sparrows upon the out-edge of his window,
which had incommoded him all the time he wrote, and at last had
entirely taken him off from his genealogy.

--'Tis
strange! writes Bevoriskius; but the facts are certain, for I have had
the curiosity to mark them down one by one with my pen--but
the cock-sparrow, during the little time that I could have finished the
other half of this note, has actually interrupted me with the
reiteration of his caresses three-and-twenty times and a half.

How merciful, adds
Bevoriskius, is heaven to his creatures

Ill-fated Yorick! that
the gravest of thy brethren should be able to write that to the world,
which stains thy face with crimson, to copy even in thy study.

But this is nothing to
my travels--So I twice-- twice beg pardon
for it.

Versailles--Character

And how do you find the
French? said the Count de B****, after he had given me the Passport.

The reader may suppose,
that after so obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be at a loss to
say something handsome to the enquiry.

--Mais
passe, pour cela--Speak frankly, said he: do you find
all the urbanity in the French which the world give us the honour
of?--I had found everything, I said, which confirmed it--Vraiment,
said the Count-- les François sont polis--To
an
excess, replied I.

The Count took notice of
the word 'excesse'; and would have it meant more than I said. I
defended myself a long time as well as I could against it--he
insisted I had a reserve, and that I would speak my opinion frankly.

I believe, Mons. le
Count, said I, that man has a certain compass, as well as an
instrument; and that the social and other calls have occasion by turns
for every key in him; so that if you begin a note too high or too low,
there must be a want either in the upper or under part, to fill up the
system of harmony.--The Count de B**** did not understand
music, so desired me to explain it some other way. A polish'd nation,
my dear Count, said I, makes every one its debtor; and besides,
urbanity itself, like the fair sex, has so many charms, it goes against
the heart to say it can do ill; and yet, I believe, there is but a
certain line of perfection, that man, take him altogether, is impower'd
to arrive at--if he gets beyond, he rather exchanges
qualities than gets them. I must not presume to say, how far this has
affected the French in the subject we are speaking of--but
should it ever be the case of the English, in the progress of their
refinements, if we did not lose the politesse du coeur, which
inclines men more to humane actions, than courteous ones--We
should at least lose that distinct variety and originality of
character, which distinguishes them, not only from each other, but from
all the world besides.

I had a few of King
Williams's shillings as smooth as glass in my pocket; and forseeing
they would be of use in the illustration of my hypothesis, I had got
them into my hand, when I had proceeded so far--

See, Mons. le Count,
said I, rising up, and laying them before him upon the table--by
jingling and rubbing one against another for seventy years together in
one body's pocket or another's they are become so much alike, you can
scarce distinguish one shilling from another.

The English, like
ancient medals, kept more apart, and passing but few people's hands,
preserve the first sharpnesses which the fine hand of Nature has given
them--they are not so pleasant to feel--but,
in return, the legend is so visible, that at the first look you see
whose image and superscription they bear. But the French, Mons. le
Count, added I (wishing to soften what I had said), have so many
excellencies, they can the better spare this--they are a
loyal, a gallant, a generous, an ingenious, and good-temper'd people as
is under heaven-- if they have a fault, they are too serious.

Mon Dieu! cried
the Count, rising out of his chair.

Mais vous plaisantez,
said he, correcting his exclamation.--I laid my hand upon
my breast, and with earnest gravity assured him it was my most settled
opinion.

The Count said he was
mortified he could not stay to hear my reasons, being engaged to go
that moment to dine with the Duc de C****.

But if it is not too far
to come to Versailles to eat your soup with me, I beg, before you leave
France, I may have the pleasure of knowing you retract your opinion--or,
in what manner you support it.--But if you do support it, Mons.
Anglois, said he, you must do it with all your powers, because you
have the whole world against you--I promised the Count I
would do myself the honour of dining with him before I set out for Italy--
so took my leave.

Paris--The
Temptation

When I alighted at the
hotel, the porter told me a young woman with a bandbox had been that
moment enquiring for me.--I do not know, said the porter,
whether she is gone away or no. I took the key of my chamber of him,
and went up stairs; and when I had got within ten steps of the top of
the landing before my door, I met her coming easily down.

It was the fair fille
de chambre I had walked along the Quai de Conti with: Madame de
R**** had sent her upon some commission to a marchande de modes
within a step or two of the Hôtel de Modene; and as I had fail'd in
waiting upon her, had bid her enquire if I had left Paris; and if so,
whether I had not left a letter addressed to her.

As the fair fille de
chambre was so near my door, she return'd back and went into the
room with me for a moment or two whilst I wrote a card.

It was a fine still
evening in the latter end of the month of May--the crimson
window-curtains (which were of the same colour of those of the bed)
were drawn close--the sun was setting, and reflected
through them so warm a tint into the fair fille de chambre's
face--I thought she blush'd--the idea of it
made me blush myself-- we were quite alone; and that
superinduced a second
blush before the first could get off.

There is a sort of a
pleasing half-guilty blush, where the blood is more in fault than the
man--'tis sent impetuous from the heart, and virtue flies
after it--not to call it back, but to make the sensation
of it more delicious to the nerves-- 'tis associated--

But I'll not describe it--I
felt something at first within me which was not in strict unison with
the lesson of virtue I had given her the night before--I
sought five minutes for a card--I knew I had not one. I
took up a pen-- I laid it down again--my
hand trembled-- the devil was in me.

I know as well as as any
one he is an adversary, whom if we resist he will fly from us--but
I seldom resist him at all; from a terror, that though I may conquer, I
may still get a hurt in the combat--so I give up the
triumph for security; and instead of making him fly, I generally fly
myself.

The fair fille de
chambre came up close to the bureau where I was looking for a card--took
up first the pen I cast down, then offer'd to hold me the ink; she
offer'd it so sweetly, I was going to accept it--but I
durst not--I have nothing, my dear, said I, to write upon.--Write
it, said she, simply, upon any thing--

I was just going to cry
out, Then I will write it, fair girl! upon thy lips.--

If I do, said I, I shall
perish--so I took her by the hand, and led her to the
door, and begg'd she would not forget the lesson I had given her--She
said, indeed she would not not--and as she uttered it with
some earnestness, she turn'd about, and gave me both her hands, closed
together, into mine--it was impossible not to compress
them in that situation--I wish'd to let them go; and all
the time I held them, I kept arguing within myself against it--and
still I held them on.

--In two
minutes I found I had all the battle to fight over again--and
I felt my legs and every limb about me tremble at the idea.

The foot of the bed was
within a yard and a half of the place where we were standing--I
had still hold of her hands-- and how it happened I can
give no account, but I neither
ask'd her--nor drew her--nor did I think of
the bed--but so it did happen, we both sat down.

I'll just shew you, said
the fair fille de chambre, the little purse I have been making
to-day to hold your crown. So she put her hand into her right pocket,
which was next me, and felt for it some time--then into
the left--'She had lost it.'--I never bore
expectation more quietly-- it was in her right pocket at
last--she
pull'd it out; it was of green taffeta, lined with a little bit of
white quilted sattin, and just big enough to hold the crown--she
put it into my hand; it was pretty; and I held it ten minutes with the
back of my hand resting upon her lap--looking sometimes at
the purse, sometimes on one side of it.

A stitch or two had
broke out in the gathers of my stock-- the fair fille
de chambre, without saying a
word, took out her little housewife, threaded a small needle, and sew'd
it up--I foresaw it would hazard the glory of the day; and
as she pass'd her hand in silence across and across my neck in the
maneuvre, I felt the laurels shake which fancy had wreath'd about my
head.

A strap had given way in
her walk, and the buckle of her shoe was just falling off--See,
said the fille de chambre, holding up her foot--I
could not from my soul but fasten the buckle in return, and putting in
the strap--and lifting up the other foot with it, when I
had done, to see both were right--in doing it too suddenly--it
unavoidably threw the fair fille de chambre off her centre--and
then--

The
Conquest

Yes--and then--Ye
whose clay-cold heads and lukewarm hearts can argue down or mask your
passions, tell me, what trespass is it that man should have them? or
how his spirit stands answerable to the Father of spirits but for his
conduct under them.

If Nature has so wove
her web of kindness that some threads of love and desire are entangled
with the piece--must the whole web be rent in drawing them
out?--Whip me such stoics, great Governor of nature! said
I to myself--Wherever thy providence shall place me for the trials of
my virtue--Whatever is my danger--whatever is
my situation--let me feel the movements which rise out of
it, and which belong to me as a man--and if I govern them
as a good one, I will trust the issues to thy justice: for thou hast
made us, and not we ourselves.

As I finish'd my
address, I raised the fair fille de chambre up by the hand, and
led her out of the room--she stood by me till I lock'd the
door and put the key in my pocket-- and then--the
victory being quite
decisive--and not till then, I press'd my lips to her
cheek, and taking her by the hand again, led her safe to the gate of
the hotel.

Paris--The
Mystery

If a man knows the heart,
he will know it was impossible to go back instantly to my chamber--it
was touching a cold key with a flat third to it, upon the close of a
piece of music, which had call'd forth my affection--therefore
when I let go the hand of the fille de chambre, I remain'd at
the gate of the hotel for some time, looking at every one who pass'd
by, and forming conjectures upon them, till my attention got fix'd upon
a single object which confounded all kind of reasoning upon him.

It was a tall figure of
a philosophic, serious, adust look, which pass'd and repass'd sedately
along the street, making a turn of about sixty paces on each side of
the gate of the hotel--the man was about fifty-two-had a
small cane under his arm-- was dress'd in a dark
drab-colour'd coat, waistcoat, and
breeches, which seem'd to have seen some years service-- they
were still clean, and there was a little air of
frugal propreté throughout him. By his pulling off his hat, and
his attitude of accosting a good many in his way, I saw he was asking
charity; so I got a sous or two out of my pocket ready to give him, as
he took me in his turn--He pass'd by me without asking any
thing--and yet did not go five steps farther before he
ask'd charity of a little woman--I was much more likely to
have given of the two--He had scarce done with the woman,
when he pull'd his hat off to another who was coming the same way.--An
ancient gentleman came slowly-- and, after him, a young
smart one--He let
them both pass, and ask'd nothing; I stood observing him half an hour,
in which time he had made a dozen turns backwards and forwards, and
found that he invariably pursued the same plan.

There were two things
very singular in this, which set my brain to work, and to no purpose--the
first was, why the man should only tell his story to the sex--and
secondly--what sort of story it was, and what species of
eloquence it could be, which soften'd the hearts of the women, which he
knew 'twas to no purpose to practise upon the men.

There were two other
circumstances which entangled this mystery-
-the one was, he told every woman what he had to say in her ear,
and in a way which had much more the air of a secret than a petition--the
other was, it was always successful-- he never stopp'd a
woman, but she pull'd out her purse,
and immediately gave him something.

I could form no system
to explain the phenomenon.

I had got a riddle to
amuse me for the rest of the evening, so I walk'd up stairs to my
chamber.

The
Case of Conscience

I was immediately followed
up by the master of the hotel, who came into my room to tell me I must
provide lodgings elsewhere.-- How so, friend? said I.--He
answer'd, I had
had a young woman lock'd up with me two hours that evening in my bed-
chamber, and 'twas against the rules of his house--Very
well, said I, we'll all part friends then-- for the girl
is no worse--and I am no worse--and you will
be just as I found you.--It was enough, he said, to
overthrow the credit of his hotel.--Voyez-vous,
Monsieur, said he, pointing to the foot of the bed we had been
sitting upon--I own it had something of the appearance of
an evidence; but my pride not suffering me to enter into any detail of
the case, I exhorted him to let his soul sleep in peace, as I resolved
to let mine do that night, and that I would discharge what I owed him
at breakfast.

I should not have
minded, Monsieur, said he, if you had twenty girls-- 'Tis
a score more, replied I, interrupting him, than I ever reckon'd upon--Provided,
added he, it had been but in a morning.--And does the
difference of the time of the day at Paris make a difference in the sin?--
It made a difference, he said, in the scandal.--I
like a good distinction in my heart; and cannot say I was intolerably
out of temper with the man.--I own it is necessary,
resumed the master of the hotel, that a stranger at Paris should have
the opportunities presented to him of buying lace and silk stockings
and ruffles, et tout cela--and 'tis nothing if a
woman comes with a bandbox.--O' my conscience, said I, she
had one; but I never look'd into it.--Then Monsieur, said
he, has bought nothing.--Not one earthly thing, replied I.--Because,
said he, I could recommend one to you who would use you en
conscience.--But I must see her this night, said I.--He
made me a low bow, and walk'd down

Now shall I triumph over
this maitre d'hôtel, cried I-- and what then? Then
I shall let him know he is a dirty fellow.--And what then?--What
then! I was too near myself to say it was for the sake of others.--
I had no good answer left--there was more
of spleen than principle in my project, and I was sick of it before the
execution.

In a few minutes the
Grisset came in with her box of lace-- I'll buy nothing,
however, said I, within myself.

The Grisset would shew
me every thing--I was hard to please; she would not seem
to see it; she open'd her little magazine, and laid all her laces one
after another before me-- unfolded and folded them up
again one by one with the
most patient sweetness--I might buy--or not--she
would let me have every thing at my own price--the poor
creature seem'd anxious to get a penny; and laid herself out to win me,
and not so much in a manner which seem'd artful, as in one I felt
simple and caressing.

If there is not a fund
of honest cullibility in man, so much the worse--my heart
relented, and I gave up my second resolution as quietly as the first--Why
should I chastise one for the trespass of another? If thou art
tributary to this tyrant of an host, thought I, looking up in her face,
so much harder is thy bread.

If I had not had more
than four Louis d'ors in my purse, there was no such thing as rising up
and shewing her the door, till I had first laid three of them out in a
pair of ruffles.

--The
master of the hotel will share the profit with her--no
matter-- then I have only paid as many a poor soul has paid
before me, for an act he could not do, or think of.

Paris--The
Riddle

When La Fleur came up to
wait upon me at supper, he told me how sorry the master of the hotel
was for his affront to me in bidding me change my lodgings.

A man who values a good
night's rest will not lie down with enmity in his heart, if he can help
it--So I bid La Fleur tell the master of the hotel, that I
was sorry on my side for the occasion I had given him--
and you may tell him, if you will La Fleur, added I, that if the young
woman should call again, I shall not see her.

This was a sacrifice not
to him, but myself, having resolved, after so narrow an escape, to run
no more risks, but to leave Paris, if it was possible, with all the
virtue I enter'd it.

C'est déroger à
noblesse, Monsieur, said La Fleur, making me a bow down to the
ground as he said it-- et encore, Monsieur, said
he, may change his
sentiments--and if (par hasard) he should like to
amuse himself--I find no amusement in it, said I,
interrupting him--

Mon Dieu! said
La Fleur--and took away.

In an hour's time he
came to put me to bed, and was more than commonly officious--something
hung upon his lips to say to me, or ask me, which he could not get off:
I could not conceive what it was, and indeed gave myself little trouble
to find it out, as I had another riddle so much more interesting upon
my mind, which was that of the man's asking charity before the door of
the hotel--I would have given any thing to have got to the
bottom of it; and that, not out of curiosity--'tis so low
a principle of enquiry, in general, I would not purchase the
gratification of it with a two-
sous piece--but a secret, I thought, which so soon and so
certainly soften'd the heart of every woman you came near, was a secret
at least equal to the philosopher's stone: had I had both the Indies, I
would have given up on to have been master of it.

I toss'd and turn'd it
almost all night long in my brains to no manner of purpose; and when I
awoke in the morning, I found my spirit as much troubled with my dreams,
as ever the king of Babylon had been with his; and I will not hesitate
to affirm, it would have puzzled all the wise men of Paris as much as
those of Chaldea, to have given its interpretation.

Paris--Le
Dimanche

It was Sunday; and when La
Fleur came in, in the morning, with my coffee and roll and butter, he
had got himself so gallantly array'd, I scarce knew him.

I had covenanted at
Montriul to give him a new hat with a silver button and loop and four
Louis d'ors pour s'adoniser, when we got to Paris; and the poor
fellow, to do him justice, had done wonders with it. He had bought a
bright, clean, good scarlet coat, and a pair of breeches of the same--They
were not a crown worse, he said, for the wearing--I wish'd
him hang'd for telling me--They look'd so fresh, that tho'
I knew the thing could not be done, yet I would rather have imposed
upon my fancy with thinking I had bought them new for the fellow, than
that they had come out of the Rue de Friperie.

This is a nicety which
makes not the heart sore at Paris.

He had purchased
moreover a handsome blue satin waistcoat, fancifully enough embroidered--this
was indeed something the worse for the service it had done, but 'twas
clean scour'd--the gold had been touch'd up, and upon the
whole was rather showy than otherwise--and as the blue was
not violent, it suited with the coat and breeches very well: he had
squeez'd out of the money, moreover, a new bag and a solitaire;
and had insisted with the fripier upon a gold pair of garters
to his breeches knees--He had purchased muslin ruffles, bien
brodées, with four livres of his own money-- and a
pair of white silk stockings for five more-- and, to top
all, nature had given him a handsome figure,
without costing him a sous.

He entered the room thus
set off, with his hair drest in the first style, and with a handsome bouquet
in his breast-- in a word, there was that look of
festivity in every
thing about him, which at once put me in mind it was Sunday-- and
by combining both together, it instantly struck me,
that the favour he wish'd to ask of me the night before, was to spend
the day as every body in Paris spent it besides. I had scarce made the
conjecture, when La Fleur, with infinite humility, but with a look of
trust, as if I should not refuse him, begg'd I would grant him the day,
pour faire le galant vis-à-vis de sa måitresse.

Now it was the very
thing I intended to do myself vis-à-
vis Madame de R****--I had retained the Remise on
purpose for it, and it would not have mortified my vanity to have a
servant so well dress'd as La Fleur was, to have got up behind it: I
never could have worse spared him.

But we must feel,
not argue in these embarrassments-- the sons and
daughters of service part with liberty, but
not with nature, in their contracts; they are flesh and blood, and have
their little vanities and wishes in the midst of the house of bondage,
as well as their task-masters--no doubt they have set
their self-denials at a price--and their expectations are
so unreasonable, that I would often disappoint them, but that their
condition puts it so much in my power to do it.

'Behold--Behold,
I am thy servant' disarms me at once of the powers of a master--

--Thou
shalt go, La Fleur! said I.

--And what
mistress, La Fleur, said I, canst thou have pick'd up in so little time
at Paris? La Fleur laid his hand upon his breast, and said 'twas a petite
demoiselle, at Monsieur le Count de B****'s--La Fleur
had a heart made for society; and to speak the truth of him, let as few
occasions slip him as his master--so that somehow or other--but
how--Heaven knows--he had connected himself
with the demoiselle upon the landing of the stair-case, during
the time I was taken up with my passport; and as there was time enough
for me to win the Count to my interest, La Fleur had contrived to make
it do to win the maid to his. The family, it seems, was to be at Paris
that day, and he had made a party with her, and two or three more of
the Count's household, upon the boulevards.

Happy people! that once
a week at least are sure to lay down all your cares together, and dance
and sing, and sport away the weights of grievance, which bow down the
spirit of other nations of the earth.

Paris--The
Fragment

La Fleur had left me
something to amuse myself with for the day more than I had bargain'd
for, or could have entered either into his head or mine. He had brought
the little print of butter upon a currant-
leaf; and as the morning was warm, he had begg'd a sheet of waste paper
to put betwixt the currant-leaf and his hand--As that was
plate sufficient, I bad him lay it upon the table as it was; and as I
resolved to stay within all day, I ordered him to call upon the traieur,
to bespeak my dinner, and leave me to breakfast by myself.

When I had finished the
butter, I threw the currant-leaf out of the window, and was going to do
the same by the waste paper-- but stopping to read a line
first, and that drawing me
on to a second and third--I thought it better worth; so I
shut the window, and drawing a chair up to it, I sat down to read it.

It was in the old French
of Rabelais's time, and for aught I know might have been wrote by him--it
was moreover in a Gothic letter, and that so faded and gone off by
damps and length of time, it cost me infinite trouble to make any thing
of it--I threw it down; and then wrote a letter to Eugenius--then
I took it up again and embroiled my patience with it afresh--and
then to cure that, I wrote a letter to Eliza--Still it
kept hold of me; and the difficulty of understanding it increased but
the desire.

I got my dinner; and
after I had enlightened my mind with a bottle of Burgundy, I at it again--and
after two or three hours poring upon it, with almost as deep attention
as ever Gruter or Jacob Spon did upon a nonsensical inscription, I
thought I made sense of it; but to make sure of it, the best way, I
imagined, was to turn it into English, and see how it would look then--so
I went on leisurely as a trifling man does, sometimes writing a sentence--
then taking a turn or two--and then looking
how the world went out of the window; so that it was nine o'clock at
night before I had done it--I then began to read it as
follows.

Paris--The
Fragment

Now as the Notary's wife
disputed the point with the Notary with too much heat--I
wish, said the Notary (throwing down the parchment) that there was
another Notary here only to set down and attest all this--

--And what
would you do then, Monsieur? said she, rising hastily up--
the Notary's wife was a little fume of a woman, and the Notary thought
it well to avoid a hurricane by a mild reply--I would go,
answered he, to bed--You may go to the devil, answer'd the
Notary's wife.

Now there happening to
be but one bed in the house, the other two rooms being unfurnished, as
is the custom at Paris, and the Notary not caring to lie in the same
bed with a woman who had but that moment sent him pell-mell to the
devil, went forth with his hat and cane and short cloak, the night
being very windy, and walk'd out ill at ease towards the Pont Neuf.

Of all the bridges which
ever were built, the whole world who have pass,d over the Pont Neuf
must own, that it is the noblest-- the finest--the
grandest--the
lightest--the longest--the broadest that ever
conjoin'd land and land together upon the face of the terraqueous globe--

By this it seems as
if the author of the fragment had not been a Frenchman.

The worst fault which
divines and the doctors of the Sorbone can allege against it, is, that
if there is but a cap-full of wind in or about Paris, 'tis more
blasphemously sacré Dieu'd there than in any other aperture of
the whole city--and with reason, good and cogent,
Messieurs; for it comes against you without crying garde d'eau,
and with such unpremeditable puff, that of the few who cross it with
their hats on not one in fifty but hazards two livres and a half, which
is its full worth.

The poor Notary, just as
he was passing by the sentry, instinctively clapp'd his cane to the
side of it, but in raising it up, the point of his cane catching hold
of the loop of the centinel's hat, hoisted it over the spikes of the
balustrade clear into the Seine--

--'Tis
an ill wind, said a boatman, who catch'd it, which blows nobody
any good.

The sentry, being a
Gascon, incontinently twirl'd up his whiskers, and levell'd his
harquebuss.

Harquebusses in those
days went off with matches; and an old woman's paper lantern at the end
of the bridge happening to be blown out she had borrow's the sentry's
match to light it--it gave a moment's time for the
Gascon's blood to run cool, and turn the accident better to his
advantage--'Tis an ill wind, said he, catching off
the Notary's castor, and legitimating the capture with the boatman's
adage.

The poor Notary cross'd
the bridge, and passing along the Rue de Dauphine into the fauxbourg of
St. Germain, lamented himself as he walked along in this manner:

Luckless man that I am!
said the Notary, to be the sport of hurricanes all my days--to
be born to have the storm of ill language levell'd against me and my
profession wherever I go--to be forced into marriage by
the thunder of the church to a tempest of a woman--to be
driven forth out of my house by domestic winds, and despoil'd of my
castor by pontific ones--to be here, bare-headed, in a
windy night at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents--where
am I to lay ny head?-- miserable man! what wind in the
two-and-thirty points of the whole compass can blow unto thee, as it
does to the rest of thy fellow-
creatures, good!

As the Notary was
passing on by a dark passage, complaining in this sort, a voice called
out for a girl, to run for the next Notary-
-now the Notary being the next, and availing himself of his
situation, walk'd up the passage to the door, and passing through an
old sort of a saloon, was usher'd into a large chamber, dismantled of
every thing but a long military pike--a breast-
plate--a rusty old sword, and bandoleer, hung up
equidistant in four different places against the wall.

An old personage, who
had heretofore been a gentleman, and unless decay of fortune taints the
blood along with it, was a gentleman at that time, lay supporting his
head upon his hand, in his bed; a little table with a taper burning was
set close beside it, and close by the table was placed a chair--the
Notary sat him down in it; and pulling out his inkhorn and a sheet or
two of paper which he had in his pocket, he placed them before him, and
dipping his pen in his ink, and leaning his breast over the table, he
disposed every thing to make the gentleman's last will and testament.

Alas! Monsieur le
Notaire, said the gentleman, raising himself up a little, I have
nothing to bequeath, which will pay the expense of bequeathing, except
the history of myself, which I could not die in peace unless I left it
as a legacy to the world; the profits arising out of it I bequeath to
you for the pains of taking it from me-- it is a story so
uncommon, it must be read by all mankind--it
will make the fortunes of your house-- the Notary dipp'd
his pen into his inkhorn--
Almighty DIrector of every event in my life! said the old gentleman,
looking up earnestly, and raising his hands towards heaven-- Thou,
whose hand hast led me on through such a labyrinth
of strange passages down into this scene of desolation, assist the
decaying memory of an old, infirm, and broken-hearted man-- direct
my tongue by the spirit of thy eternal truth,
that this stranger may set down nought but what is written in that Book,
from whose records, said he clasping his hands together, I am to be
condemn'd or acquitted!--The Notary held up the point of
his pen betwixt the taper and his eye--

--It is a
story, Monsieur le Notaire, said the gentleman, which will rouse up
every affection in nature--it will kill the humane, and
touch the heart of cruelty herself with pity--

--The
Notary was inflamed with a desire to begin, and put his pen a third
time into his inkhorn--and the old gentleman turning a
little more towards the Notary, began to dictate his story in these
words--

--And
where is the rest of it, La Fleur? said I-- as he just
then entered the room.

Paris--The
Fragment & the Bouquet

When La Fleur came up close
to the table, and was made to comprehend what I wanted, he told me
there were only two other sheets of it, which he had wrapt round the
stalks of a bouquet to keep it together, which he had presented
to the demoiselle upon the boulevards--Then
prithee, La Fleur, step back to her to the Count de B****'s hotel, and see
if thou canst get it--There is no doubt of it, said La
Fleur-- and away he flew.

In a very short time the
poor fellow came back quite out of breath, with deeper marks of
disappointment in his looks than could arise from the simple
irreparability of the fragment--Juste ciel! in less
than two minutes that the poor fellow had taken his last tender farewel
of her--his faithless mistress had given his gage
d'amour to one of the Count's footmen-- the footman
to a young sempstress--and the
sempstress to a fidler, with my fragment at the end of it-- Our
misfortunes were involved together--I
gave a sigh--and La Fleur echo'd it back again to my ear.

--How
perfidious! cried La Fleur--How unlucky! said I.

--I should
not have been mortified, Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, if she had lost it--Nor
I, La Fleur, said I, had I found it.

Whether I did or not
will be seen hereafter.

Paris--The
Act of Charity

The man who either disdains
or fears to walk up a dark entry, may be an excellent good man, and fit
for a hundred things; but he will not do to make a good sentimental
traveller. I count little of the many things I see pass at broad
noonday, in large and open streets.-- Nature is shy, and
hates to act before spectators; but
in such an observed corner you sometimes see a single short scene of
hers, worth all the sentiments of a dozen French plays compounded
together--and yet they are absolutely fine;-
-and whenever I have a more brilliant affair upon my hands than
common, as they suit a preacher just as well as a hero, I generally
make my sermon out of 'em--and for the text--
'Cappadocia, Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia'-- is
as good as any one in the Bible.

There is a long dark
passage issuing out from the opéra-
comique into a narrow street; 'tis trod by a few who humbly wait
for a fiacre,* or wish to get off quietly o' foot when the
opera is done. At the end of it, towards the theatre, 'tis lighted by a
small candle, the light of which is almost lost before you get half-
way down, but near the door--'tis more for ornament than
use: you see it as a fix'd star of the least magnitude; it burns--but
does little good to the world, that we know of.

__________*Hackney-coach.

In returning along this
passage, I discern'd, as I approach'd, two ladies standing arm in arm
with their backs against the wall, waiting, as I imagined, for a fiacre
as they were next the, I thought they had a prior right; so I edged
myself up within a yard or little more of them, and quietly took my
stand--I was in black, and scarce seen.

The lady next me was a
tall lean figure of a woman, of about thirty-
six; the other of the same size and make, about, forty; there was no
mark of wife or widow in any one part of either of them-- they
seem'd to be two upright vestal sisters, unsapp'd
by caresses, unbroke in upon by tender salutations: I could have wish'd
to have made them happy--their happiness was destin'd that
night, to come from another quarter.

A low voice, with a good
turn of expression, and sweet cadence at the end of it, begg'd for a
twelve-sous piece betwixt them, for the love of Heaven. I thought it
singular that a beggar should fix the quota of an alms--and
that the sum be twelve times as much as what is usually given in the
dark. They both seem'd astonish'd at it as much as myself.--Twelve
sous: said one--A twelve-sous piece! said the other--
and made no reply.

The poor man said, he
knew not how to ask less of ladies of their rank; and bow'd down his
head to the ground.

Poo! said they--we
have no money.

The beggar remained
silent for a moment or two, and renew'd his supplication.

Do not, my fair young
ladies, said he, stop your good ears against me--Upon my
word, honest man! said the younger, we have no change--Then
God bless you, said the poor man, and multiply those joys which you can
give to others without change!--I observed the elder
sister put her hand into her pocket--I'll see, said she,
if I have a sous.-- A sous! give twelve, said the
supplicant; Nature has
been bountiful to you, be bountiful to a poor man.

I would, friend, with
all my heart, said the younger, if I had it.

My fair charitable! said
he, addressing himself to the elder-- What is it but your
goodness and humanity which makes
your bright eyes so sweet, that they outshine the morning even in this
dark passage? and what was it which made the Marquis de Santerre and
his brother say so much of you both as they just pass'd by?

The two ladies seemed
much affected; and impulsively at the same time they both put their
hands into their pocket, and each took out a twelve-sous piece.

The contest betwixt them
and the poor supplicant was no more-- it was continued
betwixt themselves, which of the two
should give the twelve-sous piece in charity--and to end
the dispute, they both gave it together, and the man went away.

Paris--The
Riddle Explained

I stepped hastily after
him: it was the very man whose success in asking charity of the women
before the door of the hotel had so puzzled me--and I
found at once his secret, or at least the basis of it--'twas
flattery.

Delicious essence! how
refreshing art thou to nature! how strongly are all its powers and all
its weaknesses on thy side! how sweetly dost thou mix with the blood,
and help it through the most difficult and tortuous passages to the
heart!

The poor man, as he was
not straiten'd for time, had given it here in a larger dose: 'tis
certain he had a way of bringing it into less form, for the many sudden
cases he had to do with in the streets; but how he contrived to
correct, sweeten, concentre, and qualify it-
-I vex not my spirit with the inquiry--it is
enough, the beggar gained two twelve-sous pieces--and they
can best tell the rest who have gained much greater matters by it.

Paris

We get forwards in the
world, not so much by doing services, as receiving them: you take a
withering twig, and put it in the ground; and then you water it because
you have planted it.

Mons.le Count de B****,
merely because he had done me one kindness in the affair of my
passport, would go on and do me another, the few days he was at Paris,
in making me known to a few people of rank; and they were to present me
to others, and so on.

I had got master of my secret
just in time to turn these honours to some little account; otherwise,
as is commonly the case, I should have din'd or supp'd a single time or
two round, and then by translating French looks and attitudes
into plain English, I should presently have seen, that I had gold out
of the couvert* of some more entertaining guest; and in course
should have resigned all my places one after another, merely upon the
principle that I could not keep them.--As it was, things
did not go much amiss.

__________*Plate, napkin, knife, fork, and spoon.

I had the honour of
being introduced to the old Marquis de B****: in days of yore he had
signaliz'd himself by some small feats of chivalry in the Cour
d'amour, and had dress'd himself out to the idea of tilts and
tournaments ever since--the Marquis de B**** wish'd to
have it thought the affair was somewhere else than in his brain. 'He
could like to take a trip to England,' and ask'd much of the English
ladies. Stay where you are, I beseech you, Mons.le Marquis, said I--Les
Messrs. Anglois can scarce get a kind look from them as it is--The
Marquis invited me to supper.

Mons. P**** the
farmer-general was just as inquisitive about our taxes--They
were very considerable, he heard-- If we knew but how to
collect them, said I, making him a
low bow.

I could never have been
invited to Mons. P****'s concerts upon any other terms.

I had been
misrepresented to Madame de Q*** as an esprit-
-Madame de Q*** was an esprit herself: she burnt with
impatience to see me, and hear me talk. I had not taken my seat, before
I saw she did not care a sous whether I had any wit or no--I
was let in, to be convinced she had.-- I call Heaven to
witness I never once open'd the door of
my lips.

Madame de [Q]*** vow'd
to every creature she met, 'She had never had a more improving
conversation with a man in her life.'

There are three epochas
in the empire of a French woman-- She is coquette--then
deist--then dévote: the empire during these is
never lost-- she only changes her subjects: when
thirty-five years
and more have unpeopled her dominions of the slaves of love, she
repeoples it with slaves of infidelity--and then with the
slaves of the church.

Madame de V*** was
vibrating betwixt the first of these epochas: the colour of the rose
was fading fast way--she ought to have been a deist five
years before the time I had the honour to pay my first visit.

I told Madame de V*** it
might be her principle; but I was sure it could not be in her interest
to level the outworks, without which I could not conceive how such a
citadel as her's could be defended--that there was not a
more dangerous thing in the world than for a beauty to be a deist--that
it was a debt I owed my creed, not to conceal it from her--that
I had not been five minutes sat upon the sopha beside her, but I had
begun to form designs--and what is it, but the sentiments
of religion, and the persuasion they had excited in her breast, which
could have check'd them as they rose up?

We are not adamant, said
I, taking hold of her hand--and there is need of all
restraints, till age in her own time steals in and lays them on us--but,
my dear lady, said I, kissing her hand--'tis too--too
soon--

I declare I had the
credit all over Paris of unperverting Madame de V***--She
affirmed to Mons. D*** and the Abbé M***, that in one half-hour I had
said more for revealed religion, than all their Encyclopedia had said
against it--I was lifted directly into Madame de V***'s Coterie--and
she put off the epocha of deism for two years.

I remember it was in thisCoterie,
in the middle of a discourse, in which I was shewing the necessity of a
first cause, that the young Count de Faineant took me by
the hand to the farthest corner of the room, to tell me my solitaire
was pinn'd too strait about my neck--It should be plus
badinant, said the Count, looking down upon his own--but
a word, Mons. Yorick, to the wise--

--And from
the wise, Mons. le Count, replied I, making him a bow--is
enough.

The Count de Faineant
embraced me with more ardour than ever I was embraced by mortal man.

For three weeks
together, I was of every man's opinion I met.-- Pardi!
ce Mons.Yorick a autant d'esprit que nous
autres--Il raisonne bien, said another-- C'est
un bon enfant, said a third.--And
at this price I could have eaten and drank and been merry all the days
of my life at Paris: but 'twas a dishonest reckoning-- I
grew ashamed of it.--It was the gain of a
slave-- every sentiment of honour revolted against it--the
higher I got, the more I was forced upon my beggarly system--the
better the Coterie--the more children of Art--I
languish'd for those of Nature: and one night, after a most vile
prostitution of myself to half a dozen different people, I grew sick--went
to bed--order'd La Fleur to get me horses in the morning
to set out for Italy.

Moulines--Maria

I never felt what the
distress of plenty was in any one shape till now--to
travel it through the Bourbonnois, the sweetest part of France--in
the heyday of the vintage, when Nature is pouring her abundance into
everyone's lap and every eye is lifted up--a journey
through each step of which Music beats time to Labour, and all
her children are rejoicing as they carry in their clusters--to
pass through this with my affections flying out, and kindling at every
group before me--and every one of them was pregnant with
adventures.

Just Heaven!--it
would fill up twenty volumes-- and alas! I have but a few
small pages left of this to
crown it into--and half of these must be taken up with the
poor Maria my friend Mr. Shandy met with near Moulines.

The story he had told of
that disorder'd maid affected me not a little in the reading; but when
I got within the neighborhood where she lived, it returned so strong
into my mind, that I could not resist an impulse which prompted me to
go half a league out of the road, to the village, where her parents
dwelt, to enquire after her.

'Tis going, I own, like
the Knight of the Woeful Countenance, in quest of melancholy adventures--but
I know not how it is, but I am never so perfectly conscious of the
existence of a soul within me, as when I am entangled in them.

The old mother came to
the door, her looks told me the story before she open'd her mouth--She
had lost her husband; he had died, she said, of anguish, for the loss
of Maria's sense, about a month before.--She had feared at
first, she added, that it would have plunder'd her poor girl of what
little understanding was left--but, on the contrary, it
had brought her more to herself--still she could not rest--her
poor daughter, she said, crying, was wandering somewhere about the road--

--Why does
my pulse beat languid as I write this? and what made La Fleur, whose
heart seem'd only to be tuned to joy, to pass the back of his hand
twice across his eyes, as the woman stood and told it? I beckoned to
the postillion to turn back into the road.

When we had got within
half a league of Moulines, at a little opening in the road leading to a
thicket, I discovered poor Maria sitting under a poplar--she
was sitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one side
within her hand--a small brook ran at the foot of the tree.

I bid the postillion go
on with the chaise to Moulines-- and La Fleur to bespeak
my supper--and that
I would walk after him.

She was dress'd in
white, and much as my friend had described her, except that her hair
hung loose, which before was twisted within a silk net.--She
had, superadded likewise to her jacket, a pale green ribband, which
fell across her shoulder to the waist; at the end of which hung her
pipe.--Her goat had been as faithless as her lover; and
she had got a little dog in lieu of him, which she had kept tied by a
string to her girdle: as I look'd at her dog, she drew him towards her
with the string.--'Thou shalt not leave me, Sylvio,' said
she. I look'd in Maria's eyes, and saw she was thinking more of her
father than of her lover or her little goat; for as she utter'd them,
the tears trickled down her cheeks.

I sat down close by her;
and Maria let me wipe them away as they fell, with my handkerchief.--I
then steep'd it in my own-
-and then in her's--and then in mine--
and then I wip'd her's again--and as I did
it, I felt such undescribable emotions within me, as I am sure could
not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.

I am positive I have a
soul; nor can all the books with which materialists have pestered the
world ever convince me to the contrary.

Maria

When Maria had come a
little to herself, I ask'd her if she remembered a pale thin person of
a man, who had sat down betwixt her and her goat about two years
before? She said, she was unsettled much at that time, but remember'd
it upon two accounts--that ill as she was, she saw the
person pitied her; and next, that her goat had stolen his handkerchief,
and she had beat him for the theft--she had wash'd it, she
said, in the brook, and kept it in her pocket to restore it to him in
case she should ever see him again, which, she added, he had half
promised her. As she told me this, she took the handkerchief out of her
pocket to let me see it; she had folded it up neatly in a couple of
vine-leaves; tied round with a tendril-- on opening it, I
saw an S. marked in one of the
corners.

She had since that, she
told me, strayed as far as Rome, and walk'd round St Peters once--and
return'd back-- that she found her way alone across the
Apennines-- had travell'd over all Lombardy without money--
and through the flinty roads of Savoy without shoes--how
she had borne it, and how she had got supported, she could not tell--but
God tempers the wind, said Maria, to the shorn lamb.

Shorn indeed! and to the
quick, said I; and wast thou in my own land, where I have a cottage, I
would take thee to it and shelter thee: thou shouldst eat of my own
bread, and drink of my own cup--I would be kind to thy
Sylvio--in all thy weaknesses and wanderings I would seek
after thee and bring thee back-- when the sun went down I
would say my prayers; and when
I had done thou shouldst play thy evening song upon thy pipe, nor would
the incense of my sacrifice be worse accepted for entering heaven along
with that of a broken heart.

Nature melted within me,
as I utter'd this; and Maria observing, as I took out my handkerchief,
that it was steep'd too much already to be of use, would needs go wash
it in the stream.--And where will you dry it, Maria? said
I.--I'll dry it in my bosom, said she--'twill
do me good.

And is your heart still
so warm, Maria? said I.

I touch'd upon the
string on which hung all her sorrows-- she look'd with
wistful disorder for some time in my
face; and then, without saying any thing, took her pipe, and play'd her
service to the Virgin--The string I had touch'd ceased to
vibrate--in a moment or two Maria returned to herself--let
her pipe fall--and rose up.

And where are you going,
Maria? said I.--She said, to Moulines--Let us
go, said I, together.-- Maria put her arm within mine,
and lengthening the
string, to let the dog follow--in that order we enter'd
Moulines.

Moulines--Maria

Tho' I hate salutations and
greetings in the marketplace, yet when we got into the middle of this,
I stopp'd to take my last look and last farewel of Maria.

Maria, though not tall,
was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms--affliction
had touch'd her looks with something that was scarce earthly--still
she was feminine-- and so much was there about her of all
that the heart
wishes, or the eye looks for in woman, that could the traces ever be
worn out of her brain, and those of Eliza out of mine, she should not
only eat of my bread and drink of my own cup, but Maria should lie
in my bosom, and be unto me a daughter.

Adieu, poor luckless
maiden!--Imbibe the oil and wine which the compassion of a
stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours into thy wounds--the
Being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up forever.

The
Bourbonnois

There was nothing from
which I had painted out for myself so joyous a riot of the affections,
as in this journey in the vintage, through this part of France; but
pressing through this gate of sorrow to it, my sufferings have totally
unfitted me: in every scene of festivity I saw Maria in the background
of the piece, sitting pensive under her poplar; and I had got almost to
Lyons before I was able to cast a shade across her.

--Dear
sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or
costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of
straw--and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to Heaven--Eternal
fountain of our feelings!--'tis here I trace thee--and
this is thy 'divinity which stirs within me'--not,
that in some sad and sickening moments, 'my soul shrinks back upon
herself, and startles at destruction'--mere pomp of
words!--but that I feel some generous joys and generous
cares beyond myself--all comes from thee, great-- great
SENSORIUM of the
world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the
ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation--Touch'd
with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish--hears
my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his
nerves. Thou giv'st a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant
who traverses the bleakest mountains--he finds the
lacerated lamb of another's flock--This moment I beheld
him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination
looking down upon it!--Oh! had I come one moment sooner!--it
bleeds to death--his gentle heart bleeds with it--

Peace to thee, generous
swain!--I see thou walkest off with anguish--
but thy joys shall balance it-- for happy is thy cottage--and
happy is the
sharer of it--and happy are the lambs which sport about
you.

The
Supper

A shoe coming loose from
the forefoot of the thill-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of
mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put
it in his pocket; as the ascent was of five or six miles and that horse
our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoe fasten's on
again, as well as we could; but the postillion had thrown away the
nails, and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without
them, I submitted to go on.

He had not mounted half
a mile higher, when coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor devil
lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore-foot. I then got out of
the chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house about a quarter of a
mile to the left-hand, with a great deal to do I prevailed upon the
postillion to turn up to it. The look of the house, and of every thing
about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster,--It
was a little farmhouse, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard,
about as much corn--and close to the house, on one side,
was a potagerie of an acre and a half, full of every thing
which could make plenty in a French peasant's house--and
on the other side was a little wood, which furnished wherewithal to
dress it. It was about eight in the evening when I got to house--so
I left the postillion to manage his point as he could-- and
for mine, I walk'd directly into the house.

The family consisted of
an old grey-headed man and his wife, with five or six sons and
sons-in-law and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy out of them.

They were all sitting
down together to their lentil-soup; a large wheaten loaf was in the
middle of the table; and a flaggon of wine at each end of it, promised
joy through the stages of the repast-- 'twas a feast of
love.

The old man rose up to
meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would have me sit down at the
table; my heart was set down the moment I enter'd the room; so I sat
down at once like a son of the family; and to invest myself in the
character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the old man's
knife, and taking up the loaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon; and as I
did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome
but of a welcome mix'd with thanks that I had not seem'd to doubt it.

Was it this; or tell me,
Nature, what else it was that made this morsel so sweet--and
to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their flaggon was so
delicious with it, that they remain upon my palate to this hour?

If the supper was to my
taste--the grace which followed it was much more so.

The
Grace

When supper was over, the
old man gave a knock upon the table with the haft of his knife, to bid
them prepare for the dance: the moment the signal was given, the women
and girls ran all together into a back apartment to tye up their hair--and
the young men to the door to wash their faces, and change their sabots;
and in three minutes every soul was ready upon a little esplanade
before the house to begin--The old man and his wife came
out last, and placing me betwixt them, sat down upon a sopha of turf by
the door.

The old man had some
fifty years ago been no mean performer upon the vielle--and
at the age he was then of, touch'd it well enough for the purpose. His
wife sung now-and-then a little to the tune--then
intermitted--and join'd her old man again as their
children and grandchildren danced before them.

It was not till the
middle of the second dance, when for some pauses in the movement
wherein they all seem'd to look up, I fancied I could distinguish an
elevation of spirit different from that which is the cause or the
effect of simple jollity.--In a word, I thought I beheld
Religion mixing in the dance--but as I had never seen her
so engaged, I should have look'd upon it now as one of the illusions of
an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man,
as soon as the dance ended, said that this was their constant way; and
that all his life long he had made it a rule after supper was over, to
call out his family to dance and rejoice; believing, he said, that a
cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to heaven that
an illiterate peasant could pay--

--Or a learned prelate
either, said I.

The
Case of Delicacy

When you have gain'd the
top of mount Taurira, you run presently down to Lyons--adieu
then to all rapid movements! 'Tis a journey of caution; and it fares
better with sentiments, not to be in a hurry with them; so I contracted
with a Voiturin to take his time with a couple of mules, and
convey me in my own chaise safe to Turin through Savoy.

Poor, patient, quiet,
honest people! fear not: your poverty, the treasure of your simple
virtues, will not be envied you by the world, nor will your vallies be
invaded by it.--Nature! in the midst of thy disorders,
thou art still friendly to the scantiness thou hast created--with
all thy great works about thee, little hast thou left to give, either
to the scythe or to the sickle-- but to that little thou
grantest safety and protection;
and sweet are the dwellings which stand so shelter'd.

Let the way-worn
traveller vent his complaints upon the sudden turns and dangers of your
roads--your rocks,--your precipices--the
difficulties of getting up-- the horrors of getting down--mountains
impracticable--and cataracts, which roll down great stones
from their summits, and block his road up--The peasants
had been all day at work in removing a fragment of this kind between St
Michael and Madane; and by the time my Voiturin got to the
place, it wanted full two hours of completing before a passage could
any how be gain'd: there was nothing but to wait with patience--'twas
a wet and tempestuous night: so that by the delay, and that together,
the Voiturin found himself obliged to take up five miles short
of his stage at a little decent kind of an inn by the road-side.

I forthwith took
possession of my bed-chamber--got a good fire--
order'd supper; and was thanking Heaven it was no worse--when
a voiture arrived with a lady in it and her servant-maid.

As there was no other
bed-chamber in the house, the hostess, without much nicety, led them
into mine, telling them, as she usher'd them in, that there was nobody
in it but an English gentleman-- that there were two good
beds in it, and a closet within
the room which held another.--The accent in which she spoke of this
third bed did not say much for it--however, she said there
were three beds, and but three people--and she durst say,
the gentleman would do any thing to accomodate matters.--I
left not the lady a moment to make a conjecture about it--
so instantly made a declaration that I would do any
thing in my power.

As this did not amount
to an absolute surrender of my bed-chamber, I still felt myself so much
the proprietor, as to have a right to do the honours of it--so
I desired the lady to sit down-- pressed her into the
warmest seat--call'd
for more wood--and desired the hostess to enlarge the plan
of the supper, and to favour us with the very best wine.

The lady had scarce
warm'd herself five minutes at the fire, before she began to turn her
head back, and give a look at the beds; and the oftener she cast her
eyes that way, the more they return'd perplex'd-- I felt
for her--and for myself; for in a few minutes, what by her
looks, and the case itself, I found myself as much embarrassed as it
was possible the lady could be herself.

That the beds we were to
ly in were in one and the same room, was enough simply by itself to
have excited all this--but the position of them, for they
stood parallel, and so very close to each other, only to allow space
for a very small wicker chair betwixt them, rendered the affair still
more oppressive to us--they were fixed up moreover near
the fire, and the projection of the chimney on one side, and a large
beam which cross'd the room on the other, form'd a kind of recess for
them that was no way favourable to the nicety of our sensations--if
any thing could have added to it, it was that the two beds were both of
them so very small, as to cut us off from every idea of the lady and
the maid lying together; which in either of them, could it have been
feasible, my lying beside them, though a thing not to be wish'd yet
there was nothing in it so terrible which the imagination might not
have pass'd over without torment.

As for the little room
within, it offer'd little or no consolation to us; 'twas a damp cold
closet, with a half dismantled window-shutter, and with a window which
had neither glass nor oil paper in it to keep out the tempest of the
night. I did not endeavour to stifle my cough when the lady gave a peep
into it; so it reduced the case in course to this alternative--that
the lady should sacrifice her health to her feelings, and take up with
the closet herself, and abandon the bed next mine to her maid--or
that the girl should take the closet, &c. &c.

The lady was a
Piedmontese of about thirty, with a glow of health in her cheeks.--The
maid was a Lyonoise of twenty, as brisk and lively a French girl as
ever moved.--There were difficulties every way--and
the obstacle of the stone in the road, which brought us into the
distress, great as it appeared whilst the peasants were removing it,
was but a pebble to what lay in our ways now--I have only
to add, that it did not lessen the weight which hung upon our spirits,
that we were both too delicate to communicate what we felt to each
other upon the occasion.

We sat down to supper,
and had we not had more generous wine to it than a little inn in Savoy
could have furnish'd, our tongues had been tied, till necessity herself
had set them at liberty--but the lady having a few bottles
of Burgundy in her voiture, sent down her Fille de Chambre
for a couple of them; so that by the time supper was over, and we were
left alone, we felt ourselves inspired with a strength of mind
sufficient to talk, at least, without reserve upon our situation. We
turn'd it every way, and debated and considered it in all kind of
lights in the course of a two hour negotiation; at the end of which the
articles were settled finally betwixt us, and stipulated for in form
and manner of a treaty of peace-- and I believe with as
much religion and good faith on
both sides, as in any treaty which has yet had the honour of being
handed down to posterity.

They were as follows:

First, As the right of
the bed-chamber is in Monsieur-- and he thinking the bed
next to the fire to be the
warmest, he insists upon the concession on the lady's side of taking up
with it.

Granted, on the part of
Madame; with a priviso, That as the curtains of that bed are of a
flimsy transparent cotton, and appear likewise too scanty to draw
close, that the Fille de Chambre shall fasten up the opening,
either by corking pins, or needle and thread, in such manner as shall
be deem'd a sufficient barrier on the side of Monsieur.

2dly. It is required on
the part of Madame, that Monsieur shall lie the whole night through in
his robe de chambre.

Rejected: inasmuch as
Monsieur is not worth a robe de chambre; he having nothing in
his portmanteau but six shirts and a black silk pair of breeches.

The mentioning the silk
pair of breeches made an entire change of the article--for
the breeches were accepted as an equivalent for the robe de chambre;
and so it was stipulated and agreed upon, that I should lie in my black
silk breeches all night.

3dly. It was insisted
upon, and stipulated for by the lady, that after Monsieur was got to
bed, and the candle and fire extinguished, that Monsieur should not
speak one single word the whole night.

Granted; provided
Monsieur's saying his prayers might not be deem'd an infraction of the
treaty.

There was but one point
forgot in this treaty, and that was the manner in which the lady and
myself should be obliged to undress and get to bed--there
was one way of doing it, and that I leave to the reader to devise;
protesting as I do, that if it is not the most delicate in nature, 'tis
the fault of his own imagination-- against which this is
not my first complaint.

Now when we were got to
bed, whether it was the novelty of the situation, or what it was, I
know not; but so it was, I could not shut my eyes; I tried this side
and that and turn'd and turn'd again, till a full hour after midnight;
and when Nature and patience both were wearing out--O my
God! said I.

You have broke the
treaty, Monsieur, said the lady, who had no more sleep than myself.--I
begg'd a thousand pardons-- but insisted it was no more
than an ejaculation-- she maintained 'twas an entire
infraction of the treaty-- I maintain'd it was provided
for in the clause of the
third article.

The lady would by no
means give up the point, though she weaken'd her barrier by it; for in
the warmth of the dispute, I could hear two or three corking pins fall
out of the curtain to the ground.

Upon my word and honour,
Madame, said I--stretching my arms out of the bed by way
of asseveration--

(--I was
going to have added, that I would not have trespass'd against the
remotest idea of decorum for the world)--

--But the Fille
de Chambre hearing there were words between us, and fearing that
hostilities would ensue in course, had crept silently out of her
closet, and it being totally dark, had stolen so close to our beds,
that she had got herself into the narrow passage which separated them,
and had advanced so far up as to be in a line betwixt her mistress and
me--

So that when I stretch'd
out my hand, I caught hold of the Fille de Chambre's--